


I'm Hui's.

by jamjoon



Category: Pentagon (Korean Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Getting Together, M/M, Multi, Sexual Content, ot10 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9577073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamjoon/pseuds/jamjoon
Summary: Switching schools is always kind of sucky.But this is a new world, of parties and frats and love.Hyojong gets swept up in it all. Especially when it comes down to Hui.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so,,,, this is a guilty pleasure,,, im so sorry 
> 
> I just want a big pentagon snuggle pile and for hyojong to get the love he deserves

 

Switching schools is always kind of sucky.

Hyojong’s first two years in college weren’t _bad,_ per say. It’s just…nobody told him that America is cold as fuck and also simultaneously on fire (everyone’s gov has some serious shit to work out right now), so coming home just felt right. He likes a familiar language, with familiar shitty government problems.

He’s jumped majors, back and forth, from zoology to veterinary science, to dance and eventually music production (a wide swing, he knows).

He never really got the traditional “college” experience back in the states, so he doesn’t come to the new Uni expecting it. His new roommate is fine, the apartment is fine, his classes are fine. It’s _fine._ He’s not really here to make friends, or anything.

His roommate is polite, yeah, but they don’t speak more than they need to. He’s mostly gone all the time, with some group of friends that never step a foot in the door.

It’s lonely, but it could be lonelier, so when Hyojong’s mother calls to ask how he’s doing, he says he’s fine.

 

~

 

“I’m goin’ out,” His roommate calls. They’re the same age, so Hyojong doesn’t feel bad when he waves without formality,

“Have fun.”

Surprisingly, his roommate hesitates in the doorway. Hyungwon is tall and skinny, but dresses quite well. He takes up most of the closet, but Hyojong doesn’t care much.

“Um,” he stares, “do you want to come with?”

Hyojong pushes down the top of his laptop screen, looking up at him like a baby bird,  “What?”

“I don’t think you’ve left this place since school started,” Hyungwon says. “Except for. You know. School.”

Hyojong shrugs, not particularly upset about it, “It’s fine. I’d feel bad for your friends. It would probably be weird anyways.”

“You sure? It’s supposed to be a really great party. My friends are disgusting extroverts that love meeting new people.”

Hyojong snorts, “Are those common around here? Parties?”

Hyungwon smiles, and it’s actually the first time Hyojong has seen him do so. He folds his arms, relaxing in the doorway, “They’re huge. Uni has a really big fraternity scene.”

Hyojong rolls his eyes, “Great.”

“Think what you want. I’m just saying, it’d be fun.”

“Maybe next time," Hyojong turns back to his laptop. “Thanks for the invite.”

Hyungwon shrugs, “Suit yourself,” and hunts down his keys, locking the door behind him. The silence of the apartment is nice, but not as wonderful as it was before.

 

~

 

It’s week four when the professor of his music theory class says  _“group project”,_ and Hyojong hears kill bill sirens.

It’s all good and fine when the majority of his grade lies on one project, usually because he has control over the situation – but there’s no telling what dipshit peabrained moron he’ll be tagged up with, so of course, he immediately panics.

However, he’s not expecting the tall, pretty kid next to him to turn, smiling, “Hey! Do you want to be partners?”

Hyojong is a little – _lot_ in shock, because this looks like one of those stereotypical popular kids you see in American movies, where their face is too pretty and they have people hanging off their arms. He’s not exactly Hyojong’s type, but Hyojong gives credit where credit is due.

“Uh,” Hyojong blinks, and almost blurts _why?_ He manages, “Sure.”

“Cool!” The kid sticks out his hand, “You always look like you know what you’re doing. My name is Hongseok. 94’ liner.”

“Hyojong. Same.” He shakes his hand.

“What’s your major?”

“I’m going for music production.”

“Ahh, so an art degree.” Hongseok smiles, “Kinda’ same here. I want to teach singing.”

Hyojong smiles back, because Hongseok is surprisingly kind. “That’s nice.”

“So we have to break down a popular piece, huh?” Hongseok squints down at the projector screen. “Counterpoint and complex harmony. Fun.”

“Are we doing a funky fresh powerpoint? Or some classic notecards.” Hyojong taps his pencil.

Hongseok laughs, surprising Hyojong a little. “Only the funkiest of powerpoints. Do you want to meet at my place or yours?”

“Well…” Hyojong shifts in his seat, “…my apartment kinda’ smells like corndogs and Jaeger right now.”

“My place it is!” Hongseok giggles. It’s surprisingly adorable, for someone whose biceps are round enough to squish Hyojong’s head like a grape. “It’s a bit busy there. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all.”

 

~

 

They only have one week for this stupid assignment, so they meet at Starbucks, and walk the two blocks down the street to Hongseok’s house.

Hongseok is really nice, Hyojong has gathered. He gives off that responsible vibe – he struggles a bit with his studies, but what he lacks in knowledge, he seems to make up in motivation. It’s admirable.

Hyojong was never that great at small talk, but Hongseok is fabulous at it, asking questions easily along the walk there. The weather is still relatively nice, to where Hyojong is able to roll up his sleeves.

“Ooh! You have tattoos!” Hongseok beams.

“Do they bother you?” Hyojong asks. “Should I hide them from your family?”

Hongseok breaks into laughter, almost tripping over a bellow in the concrete, “Oh, _ahah,_ no, no. I don’t live with my family. My roommates will find them cool, if anything.”

“Oh,” Hyojong says. He adjusts his backpack, laptop heavy, “Okay.”

The house they roll up to is _big._ It’s not what he’s expecting a college student to live in – although, the roll of toiletpaper strung across the bush and the garden gnome in the tree kind of give it away. There’s a mat beneath the front door that says _This Is a House of Prayer,_ but the word prayer has been burned through with a lighter, making the letters bleed into _gay._

“My people,” Hyojong says.

Hongsoek laughs, “Oh yeah? You’ll get along swimmingly here.”

That sets Hyojong _incredibly_ at ease, you know, until Hongseok opens the door and yells, _“I brought a friend! Everyone better be wearing pants!”_

There’s yelling from inside the house, echoing off the high ceilings, -

_“A friend!”_

_“Ring the bells! Call the President! Hongseok has a friend!”_

“Wooseok!” Hongseok yells, “I see you! Pants!”

There’s laughter, and then the distant stomping on the stairs, before Hongseok finally lets Hyojong in the house.

“Welcome in~” Hongseok sings. “We can go work in the dining room.”

“Okay,” Hyojong blinks. The house is… interesting. There’s the mixture of really nice furniture, fake leather couches and modern chandeliers, as well as random kick knacks. A giant pentagon is drawn up on the wall, surprisingly well shaded.  There’s a Saw mask hanging next to what looks like the disembodied head of a baby doll. Hyojong is amused, if anything.

Their dining room is nice. Hongseok pulls out a chair for him, and even offers water. The dining room has big beautiful windows, that show a sweeping backyard, and a bigass pool.

“How do you afford all this?” Hyojong asks.

Hongseok laughs, pulling open his laptop, “Well, when there’s nine people sharing rent, it’s not too bad.”

Hyojong chokes, “ _Nine?_ Nine people live here?”

Almost comedically, a few bodies come bouncing in the room. They’re relatively tall, all pretty as well. They’re hanging off each other, smiling wide like mischievous kids.

“Hello friend!-“ One begins, before Hongseok lifts a hand.

“Go away, we’re doing a project.”

“A project,” one laughs. “Good luck. Take good care of our Hongmom~”

Hyojong snorts, “Hongmom?”

Hongseok looks less than amused, “Fuck off.”

“Hi! I’m Changgu, but everyone calls me Yeo One. Hongseok is our wonderful mother who cooks us breakfast and cleans the house and kisses our booboos better~”

“I’m Yanan,” one politely bows. He has a slight accent, but it’s cute. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hyojong,” he shakes their hands. Hongseok’s face is red, and he scoots the chair back, trying to shoo them away. He succeeds, amusingly, and when he turns around, Hyojong shoots him a look.

Hongseok laughs, “Don’t give me that! Someone’s got to take care of them.”

Hyojong looks back to his computer, “Whatever works man.” He turns his screen, “Wifi password?”

 

~

 

They spend a few hours working, eventually turning on the overhead lights when the sun goes down. It’s not easy, but Hongseok has a different outlook that makes Hyojong think once or twice about his theory.

His roommates occasionally come filtering through the kitchen. Hyojong learns that everyone in this house is fucking beautiful, one Japanese kid looking like something out of an editorial. Funny enough, just when he thinks they can’t get any _bigger,_ the youngest comes through, folding his hand in Yuto’s back pocket and mouthing into the back of his neck.

“Out! Out!” Hongsoek shoos, chucking all his pencils, until they leave.

“They’re hot,” Hyojong says shamelessly, making Hongseok frown.

“They’re _trouble._ Last week they almost got caught by the fuzz selling whisky milkshakes.”

“That sounds fantastic.”

“They’re _nineteen._ ” Hongsoek huffs, “Morons.”

 _“Heard that~”_ Someone sings, and in an impressive throw, Hongseok nails one of them with his last pen.

“I think we need a break,” Hongseok smiles. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m fine.”

“Nonsense,” Hongseok stands up. “I can make some quick ramen.”

“That’d be awesome. Need help?”

“No, I got it.”

At that moment, the front door clicks open. There’s talking in the next room - the noisiness should be annoying, but it’s surprisingly enjoyable.

“Babies, I’m home!” Someone sings, shutting the door.

_“Leeeader!”_

“ _Shush! Hongseok hyung has a friend over.”_

_“A friend? Other than us? I’m impressed.”_

“Hui,” Hongsoek peeps out of the kitchen, and Hyojong looks up from their project. “You’re home.”

Hyojong has seen all kinds of people filtering through the halls. A small, cute hyung named Jinho. Tall maknaes, squishy, sporty kids, taking out the trash and grabbing snacks to eat.

 But time slows.

This person walks in, loosening his tie, and he’s _beautiful._

Maybe not conventionally. His face is oddly angular, and he’s not as tall as Yuto, or built like Hongseok, but…Hyojong was never attracted to conformism. He has this aura about him, professional but sunshine-y. Confident. Lean.

“Hello!” He beams, unbuttoning his top button. He extends a hand, “My name is Hui. I’m the leader of this shit show.”

Hyojong finds himself staring, stupidly, at Hui’s open palm. After a beat, he remembers to shake his hand like a normal human being, and tell him his name.

“Hongseok told me about your project,” Hui says, extending his arm to give Hongseok a half-hug. “I hope everyone hasn’t been too much of a bother.”

 _“Ugh_ they’re the worst _-_ “ Hongseok begins, just as Hyojong says, “They’ve been fine.”

“You have the patience of a saint, Hyojong,” Hui smiles. He pats Hongseok on the back, “I’ll keep them out of here.”

“Thank you,” Hongseok breathes, turning back to the kitchen to pour the ramen into bowls. He calls, “I think Kino needs help with his calc homework.”

“Hmm,” Hui nods. He meets Hyojong’s eyes, making Hyojong’s heartbeat skyrocket. Hyojong has never wanted to tap someone so bad. “I’m on it. Good luck boys.”

“Thanks babe,” Hongseok calls. Hui patters away, and Hyojong stares stupidly.

Sometimes, Hyojong thinks he needs a better brain-to-mouth filter, because he blurts, “Are you two dating?”

“Me and leader hyung?” Hongseok blinks. He sets down the bowls, with the chopsticks, and laughs, “No. Well, it’s weird around here. Everyone’s exceptionally affectionate. I could draw you a map of who's dating who."

Hyojong takes the food with a thank you, sitting up a little, “And Hui is the ‘leader’ of….”

“Our fraternity. Pentagon.”

Oh. Well. That’d probably make a lot of sense.

Hongseok reads his face, smiling, “We’re not some bandwagon of fuckboys, I promise.”

“I studied in America for the first two years of my degree,” Hyojong explains, picking up the chopsticks. “Fraternities there are just groups of monsters that party all the time and treat girls like garbage.”

“Well…” Hongseok taps his chin, “We _do_ go to a lot of parties, but…it’s more of a support system than anything. If you’re in the frat, it’s automatic protection. We take care of each other.”

Hyojong tries not to slurp the ramen, still trying to process what Hongseok is saying. That doesn’t sound _too_ terrible, maybe. Hyojong might be willing to change his mind on the matter. But only because everyone’s been so nice.

“It’s fun!” A voice suddenly says, peeping in – and it’s Yeo One again. He bounces in, taking the opportunity now that Hongseok and Hyojong have abandoned their work. “We throw parties and go to bonfires and have picnics and invite other frats over for movie night.”

“How many are there?” Hyojong asks.

 _“Sooo_ many.”

“Sounds like a fucking mess.”

Hongseok and Yeo One laugh. “It kind of is.”

“It gets dangerous,” Yeo One rubs his chin. “Shinwon pissed off someone from Super Junior last week. The idiot almost got his ass beat.”

Hongseok huffs, “Moron needs to learn to respect his elders.”

“He’s got such a damn temper. You know he tried fighting Johnny from NCT?”

“Good thing Johnny is basically mother Teressa.”

“Yeah, unless you insult Taeyong.”

“Who’s that?” Hyojong asks, in between bites, trying to follow along.

“NCT’s leader.” Yeo One says. “You don’t fuck with a frat leader, to be honest. That’s straight up asking for an ass beating.”

“Unless you’re into that kind of thing,” Wooseok says, in passing, and Hongseok has no more writing utensils to throw, so he takes off his shoe.

It nails Wooseok right in the head, and Hyojong almost chokes on his food, sputtering into his hand, laughing stupidly. He’s managed _not_ to make a complete ass out of himself, you know, up until now – Yeo One and Hongseok look at him like he’s the sun, smiles brightening.

“Oh my god! Your laugh is adorable.”

“Fuck off,” Hyojong huffs, fighting a smile.

“I like you,” Yeo One says. “You can stay.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m so offended,” Wooseok says, while smiling. He picks up Hongseok’s shoe, “Also this is mine now.”

Hongseok hobbles after him, shouting, and it makes Hyojong smile.

~

When Hyojong returns to his peaceful room, it’s almost too quiet. Hyungwon will be home fuck knows when, so Hyojong takes a shower, and stays in there a little too long.

They turn the project in on time, and Hyojong feels good about it – although, if anything, he’s a little disappointed that he has no reason to go back to the Pentagon house. They were nice.

Hongseok is really kind, albeit a little bossy, but after meeting most of the members,  it makes sense.

He does learn, however, that Hui is in his English class, which gives him a heart attack and a half, when Hui sits next to him with a smile.

He’s just – he’s so _weird._ He looks weird. He’s quirky and mature at the same time, which is enough to give you whiplash, all while being unbelievably attractive. Charisma. Right, that’s the word Hyojong is looking for.

“Hey!” Hui smiles, “I didn’t know you were in this class.”

“Yeah, same for you.” Hyojong nods, as Hui sits down. “Did you put it off too?”

Hui laughs, “Yeah. I’m about to graduate as a mathematics major, but I’ll be here another two years for a masters. I was never any good at English.”

“Ah, the opposite for me,” Hyojong nods. “I studied at a transfer school, so I’m not _too_ bad.” His dumb mouth says, “Let me know if you need help.”

Hui’s pretty face brightens up, sitting up straight and grabbing his arm, “Wow! Thanks Hyojongie.”

The nickname makes his face burn, so he turns around, crossing his arms and staring at the front of the classroom, “Whatever.”

Hui’s attention is pulled away when someone sitting behind him taps his shoulder. Hui makes talking look so easy. He’s similar to Hongseok in that way – but it’s different. He’s immediately likeable, and when he talks to you, he _looks_ at you, like you’re the most important person he knows.

Hyojong fidgets in his chair, trying to call back the _I don’t care_ attitude that he usually carries so well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an fyi i literally stan every group ever so if u see someone being used as an antagonist its only bc i love them with every fiber of my being


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks pass, and Hyojong isn't sure how he ends up becoming friends with the Pentagon ensemble, but it happens almost effortlessly.

Well, he  _kinda_ knows how it happens.

They keep inviting him over, and Hyojong keeps fucking saying yes, so, there you go. The house is warm, full of people on couches and studying at the kitchen table. It usually smells like coffee, or whatever Yankee candle Yanan and Yeo One have become recently obsessed with.

But worst of all.  _Worst of all._ Is Hui.

Everyone is friendly – a little touchy, and Hyojong sort of likes it.

But Hui  _loves_ the skinship. Loves running his hands across arms and snuggling into laps and rubbing his cheek against squishy ones. Hui is the biggest flirt on planet earth, and Hyojong is enraptured by it. He does it so  _easily –_ and to Hyojong too.

He ruffles his hair, pats his hip, leans in close when they walk to class together, and laughs just as loud as ever. Hyojong knows that’s just who Hui is, but it’s tearing him up, gut flip flopping whenever Hui smiles at him.

But Hyojong is the master of ignoring his problems, so he chooses to do so blissfully.

 

~

 

He always finds peace here, mixing music on his old shitty PC that almost burns a hole through the desk whenever the fan forgets to kick on. Hyojong would record a few lyrics, but Hyungwon is reading on the couch, and hasn’t been home in weeks, so he’ll let the guy rest.

But again, Hyungwon starts a conversation softly, in that cool tone of his, “Are you going out tonight?”

“Nah.”

“It’s a Friday.”

“Sure is.”

“I saw you hanging out with Pentagon’s leader.” Hyungwon plays with the pages of his textbook.

“Yeah?”

“Pentagon is cool.” Hyungwon shrugs.

Hyojong spins in his chair, lifting an eyebrow, “Are you in a frat?”

“Yeah,” Hyungwon mirrors his look. “Monsta X.”

Hyojong openly laughs,  _“Monsta X?_ Wow, edgy.”

It stirs a laugh out of Hyungwon, “Look, I didn’t pick the name. The guys are really hot.”

“You’re surprisingly shallow, Hyungwon~” 

“They’re sweet,” Hyungwon laughs. “You know they started a program called  _Walk With You?_ They’re all buff as hell, so anyone getting bullied at school can get an escort to class.”

“That’s  _them?_ ” Hyojong blinks. “They offered to carry my books to class once.”

“Yeah. They’re like fluffy bunnies in bear’s clothing.”

“Incredible,” Hyojong spins his chair once more. “This school is ridiculous.”

“A little,” Hyungwon shrugs. “Just don’t get involved with the wrong frat. Stay away from Big Bang and Exo.”

“What’s up with them?”

“The two kings,” Hyungwon sings. “Big Bang is rich as fuck. They’ve got drugs you ain’t even  _heard_ of. _”_

“Party.”

Hyungwon snorts, “Sure. Don’t let me pressure you though, feel free to be a hermit for the next two years.”

“Oh, I will gladlydo so.”

 

~

 

Hyojong ends up eating his little introvert words when Hongseok wiggles next to him in music theory, and invites him out of his goblin hole of an apartment.

“It’s an awesome frat,” Hongseok smiles. “They’re throwing a super-sick party on Wednesday.”

“Super sick, huh?”

“The sickest.” Hongseok pats his arm, “GOT7 is hella' nice, you’ll dig their house. I mean, one of them might try to make out with you, but that’s not really a problem, depending on who you are.”

“Hm,” Hyojong chews on his cheek. “I haven’t gotten drunk in a while.”

Hongseok wiggles his eyebrows in a  _eyyy?_ kind of way, and Hyojong jokingly nudges his shoulder.

“But I dunno’. I have an essay due the next day.”

“The essay that you said you finished early last week?” Hongseok smiles.

Hyojong whispers, “Damn.”

“Ha-ha. You thought I don’t listen to you.”

“You really want me to go, huh?”

Hongsoek smirks,  _“Hui_ will be there.”

Hyojong sputters, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Nothing~. I’m just saying, it’ll be fun.”

“Whatever, fine. Is all of Pentagon going?”

“Yep,” Hongseok settles back in his seat, totally content. “They wouldn’t want to miss this, trust me.”

 

~

 

Hongseok wasn’t kidding.

The GOT7 house is just as pretty, if not prettier, than Pentagon’s. They walk in on a decent sized party – it’s not overflowing, but there’s bodies dancing on the stairwell, and people doing shots in the kitchen. The backyard is where most of the games are going on, the living room filled with casual drinkers.

Hyojong stared at his closet for like, twenty minutes, just to settle on ripped jeans and a pullover. He feels underdressed, and simultaneously overdressed.

GOT7 is exceptionally pretty – he learns Bambam’s name immediately, when he sees the freshman take a blowjob shot and proceed to almost jump off the balcony. 

Hyojong feels out of place, for just a moment, until there’s an arm around his waist – and it’s Yeo One, smiling, “Hey! You made it!”

“Yeah,” Hyojong shifts. He raises his voice over the music, “Everyone here?”

“Yep! We’re hanging out outside. Want a beer?”

“Liquor, preferably.”

“Ooh, you’re fun.” Yeo One grins, and pushes him through the crowd, getting him a shot on the way.

The backyard is full, the music louder out here. There’s lawn chairs everywhere – and there’s Pentagon, sitting in a circle, some on laps, others chatting with faces Hyojong doesn’t recognize. It’s not an uncomfortable feeling. There's something about the grass, and the smell of shitty beer  - it's almost nostalgic. 

Hongseok pats a seat next to him with a smile, and Hyojong takes it.

“Hey buddy!”

“Good to see ya’.”

“Hey,” Hyojong nods. He looks to Kino, “You changed your hair.”

Kino beams, ecstatic that  _someone_ noticed. He pats his own head, “I’m purple now!”

“For you, Hyung,” Wooseok hands him a beer, and this time Hyojong takes it.

“I can’t wait to see if you’re a lightweight or not,” Hongseok smiles.

Hyojong smirks, “You’re going to be disappointed.”

“Oh?”

“I come from a family of alcoholics.”

“Well, nobody can outdrink Jinho hyung,” Hui elbows him, smiling.

It's the first that Hyojong has noticed what Hui is wearing - and he looks good. He's in a low cut sweater, a little too baggy, so it hangs off his shoulders, smooth, tan collarbones there for everyone to see. It makes Hyojong's mouth water, so he buries himself in his drink.

Jinho nods, “True. It doesn't even touch me anymore."

"Your liver must hate you."

Kino says, “The whole bodyweight to BAC level thing is bullshit. Yuto is the biggest lightweight I know.”

“You’re so rude,” Yuto pouts. “I literally did nothing to you.”

“No, because the last time we had champagne at new years, you got so drunk you ate an entire box of frosted flakes, threw up  _in_ the box, and then passed out in the laundry room.”

 “Do you actually have a heart? Or is it just a black hole.”

Hyojong isn’t feeling the alcohol yet, but he laughs giddily, the mental image just too funny. He feels Hui’s eyes on him, and they’re warm. Protective, maybe. Hyojong makes the rookie mistake of looking him in the eyes, and watching them sparkle as he smiles.

Argh,  _fuck._ Stop. Hyojong will catch these fucking hands before he catches feelings.

Wooseok interrupts, “It can’t be any worse than the time Yanan took a hit and swigged down a good shot and a half of fireball.”

“Ahh…” Yanan sighs. “That was a mistake.”

“This,” Hui points, casually with an entire bottle of whisky, “is why they’re in Pentagon. So I can keep a goddamn eye on them.”

“Oh?” Hyojong smiles, “Cause you were keeping such a good eye on Yanan, when I assume, he had to get his stomach pumped.”

Hui looks surprised at Hyojong’s response, if anything, but Yeo One and Shinwon start laughing.

“He did! Hahah – he did have to have his stomach pumped.”

“I didn’t know about that until weeks later,” Hui defends.

“Yeah…” Shinwon rubs his nose. “We got in trouble for that one.”

Hyojong hides his smile behind his cup as he sips, eyes following Jinho and Hongseok when  _‘their song’_ comes on, half the people in the backyard starting to dance.

Hui, Hyojong learns, is just as much of a fucking flirt when he’s drunk, because he places a hand on Hyojong’s thigh and asks, “Wanna’ dance?” in a tone that’s too smooth to be legal.

“No thanks,” Hyojong says, with a lie. “I don’t dance.”

 

~

 

Somehow Hyojong ends up in the living room, learning names and faces that he’s (probably not) going to remember tomorrow. The music is still loud, but Hyojong got caught up in a drinking game with Jinho earlier, so now he’s just sitting here, drunkenly staring at the television across the room as people visit around him.  A few of the girl frats showed up around midnight, so the body count went up a little.

Two of the foreign GOT7 guys are sucking face on the loveseat, but they’re really hot, so it doesn’t bother Hyojong too much. Jackson and Mark seem really nice.

However, there’s bodies, suddenly, on either side of him, smiley faces that Hyojong swears he’s seen before.

“Hey,” a guy says, with a grin. “You’re new.”

“Uh,” Hyojong blinks. “I guess.”

“You don’t look like a freshman,” he flirts, quite obviously. “I’m Hanbin. This is my boyfriend.”

“Bobby,” the other smiles, and slips a hand onto his thigh. Hyojong raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. They’re attractive, but in a greasy kind of way.

“Cool.”

“Did you come with anyone?”

 “A friend invited me,” Hyojong nudges their hands off. Their breath smells like weed and alcohol, but Hyojong doesn’t smell too different, so he can’t get real uppity about it.

“Neat,” the one with the piercings – Bobby- says in English, enunciating the T. “You’re suuuuper hot, by the way.”

“You’re too subtle.”

“Aren’t we?”

“Listen,” one says, leaning close. “We should get out of here. The party’s dyin’ anyways, and it looks like your buddy left you.”

“Mmm~” Hanbin says, nodding.

“No thanks,” Hyojong moves to stand up. “I’m not really interested.”

Hands grip around his hips, pulling him back down, and their faces are back in view.  Fingers dip back between his legs, and Hyojong tenses, getting ready to snap  _fuck off –_ but somebody does it for him.

“Hey,” Wooseok barks, from the couch across the room. Hyojong didn’t even  _see_ him – but he’s there, Shinwon under his arm. Wooseok’s face is blank as he rumbles, “Cool it.”

Surprisingly, both their hands slip away quickly, giving Hyojong his personal space back.

“Oh?” Hanbin asks, blinking. “I didn’t know he was Hui’s boy.”

“He’s not.” Shinwon crosses one leg over the other, “But he said he’s not interested, so back off.”

Bobby dips his finger into the collar of Hyojong’s shirt, pulling the fabric, looking for something. Hyojong, in his blurry drunkenness, swats his hand away, hissing.

“He doesn’t belong to Hui,” Bobby says, “So it’s open game. I don’t see what your problem is.”

“You’re drunk.” And there’s Hui, suddenly popping up behind Wooseok and Shinwon like fucking Chris Angel. “Back off.”

If Hyojong was sober, none of this would be happening, but he’s slow to process what’s going on around him, and Hui is suddenly really hot when he’s serious.

There’s an energy that crackles between Hanbin and Hui.

“He’s not  _yours,_ ” Hanbin repeats, palm slinking down to Hyojong’s lower back. “Don’t get possessive over what doesn’t belong to you.”

“I’m not  _anybody’s!_ ” Hyojong barks, standing up off the couch. This is  _stupid._ None of this makes any sense – who belongs to who, what terf is what. He just wanted alcohol and music –

But a hand grips around his wrist, as if to pull him back. Shinwon and Wooseok stand up off the couch, Hui already moving forward – and the party comes to a standstill.

That must've been enough to get the attention of the room, because Jackson softly slides Mark off his lap and asks "Is there a problem here?" 

Wooseok and Shinwon are incredibly intimidating, just from reaching their full height; but that’s not the scariest part. It’s Hui, smile gone, mouth pressed into a firm line. He holds up a hand; Wooseok and Shinwon don’t move, and at that moment, Hyojong sees the power that Hui wields. Yuto is in the doorway, arms crossed. Yanan is watching from the stairs. 

It’s like a master, ready to release a pack of dogs.

“Hey,” Bobby swats Hanbin’s hand, pushing him until he’s away from Hyojong, “You don't want this.”

“Fine,” Hanbin bites, swaying into Bobby, but still glaring at Hui. “Don’t get fucking greedy, Hui-ssi. You already have eight.”

Hui calls after him, “Try again, S.Coups has twelve,” and Hanbin barely manages to flip him off, until one of his friends grips him by the collar, and hauls him off.

Hui sags immediately, sighing, Wooseok and Shinwon sitting down and returning to their conversation like normal. Mark straddles Jackson's lap again, and the party continues.  Slowly Hyojong sits where he was before – and Hui comes to sit next to him.

“I’m sorry about that,” Hui says, genuinely. He still looks sober, even after everything he downed. “Hanbin isn’t normally like that. I think he’s going through a rough patch.”

“Good to know, I guess.” Hyojong rubs his forehead. “I don’t think this frat scene is for me.”

“It’s a little crazy, I know,” Hui frowns. “But it goes beyond family. It's more than just parties.”

“You can’t own people, Hui-ssi.”

Hui tips his head up, the look on his face softening into something of smugness. His lip twitches upwards, and that charismatic, alluring aura about Hui is back. He purrs, “But they’re  _mine,_ Hyojong. I don’t expect you to understand.”

That makes Hyojong shiver, a cold, good chill, that runs head to toe. He tries to hates it, turning with a scowl, standing up.

“Sometimes the world is easier when you’re surrounded with people you love,” Hui says, smooth as ever.

“You’re nice, Hui." Hyojong tells him, “But I draw the line at using people like possessions.”  

He manages to walk away, somewhat with his dignity.

 

~

 

Hyojong wakes up with the worst hangover to end all hangovers, but he manages to slink out of bed and drink a decent amount of water, before climbing back in bed like a hermit. It feels like his skull is too small for his brain, alcohol probably leaking out of his ears.

“Rough night?” Hyungwon chirps.

Hyojong makes an intelligible noise, and hisses into his sheets. Hyungwon snorts.

“I saw you tearing it up last night. The scene isn’t too bad, huh?”

"You were there?" 

"Don't you remember?" 

Slowly the memories filter in, like the light from outside. He remembers playing games with Jinho and Yeo One – listening to Wooseok and Yanan tell stories – meeting new people, and getting  _stupid_ drunk.

But he also remembers the thing with Hui.

 “Stupid,” Hyojong mutters. “Fratboys are stupid.”

“What happened?”

“Some guys tried hitting on me.” Hyojong pulls the sheets up higher, “Which is, you know, whatever. But, when  _I_ said to fuck off, they didn’t give a damn. Until Hui stepped in. Then they ran away.”

It was, albeit attractive, kind of degrading.

“Hm,” Hyungwon leans back up in the doorframe, tall and bare-faced from the makeup he usually wears. “I don’t know if you understand how much street cred leaders get around here.”

“Huh?”

“They take care of these guys. They shoulder the burdens of everyone in their group, usually because they  _genuinely adore_ each member.”

Hyojong swallows, “Hm.”

“It’s really, really hard to join one.” Hyungwon picks at the peeling paint in the doorway, “They choose you. Not the other way around.”

“Too complicated,” Hyojong groans. He rubs his temples, “My head hurts.”

Hyungwon stands up straight, grabbing his keys, “Yeah, you look like shit. I’m getting you some asprin.” Hyojong shoots him a thumbs up from under the sheets, and the door clicks shut. For whatever god forsaken reason, Hyojong thinks to check his phone. The brightness makes him feel like god himself is cracking a hammer into his skull, so he shakily turns down the light, and squints at the texts he has.

There’s a few from Hongseok, asking if he’s dead – and a text from a number he doesn’t recognize.

 

{10:52 a.m.}

Unknown Number

 _> Hey, Hyojongie. I had Yuto walk you back last night cause you were pretty trashed. I’m sorry if I upset you at all. I was a little drunk too~_  

_but anyways, I’d like to buy you coffee this week, if ur up for it._

_Sorry again~_

_Hui_

Hyojong has to applaud his punctuality, because the annoyance in him doesn’t have any time to fester – instead bleeding out through a sigh.

It’s adorable – the idea that Hui was upset over their drunk interaction enough to get his number from Hongseok, and text him an apology. He really doesn’t deserve it; Hyojong was being a little uptight anyways.

Also, Hui signs his texts with his name. How fucking cute.

 

Hyojong manages to text back, fingers barely hitting the keys right.

 

{11:21 am}

_Thanks for standing up for me last night < _

_I’m free on Saturday <_

_~_

 

Hui is already at the coffee shop when Hyojong shows up, which means Hui is the kind of guy to be ten minutes early, and Hyojong isn’t sure how to feel about that.

“I would have walked faster, if I knew you were waiting,” Hyojong says.

“Nonsense,” Hui smiles. “Do you know what you want? I’m paying.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Shush! This is  _my_ apology coffee.”

“You don’t even have anything to apologize for,” Hyojong says, but finds himself smiling anyways. Hui orders, and they find a booth sitting in the corner, tucked away by a big window. Hui waits for Hyojong to sit first, before he slides in.

He looks good in casual clothes. The torn up black jeans/smooth leather jacket look really works for him.

Hyojong feels like the opposite, in a big pastel pink sweater. 

“So,” Hui begins, folding the receipt, “how are you feeling?”

“From the party? I was hungover for like, two days.”

Hui laughs, “Same here.”

“Bullshit.” Hyojong smiles, “You acted just like usual.”

Hui shrugs, “I’m not an exciting drunk, but it usually punches me in the face the next day.” He sighs, “I wish I had Jinho hyung’s superpower.”

“I think we all do.”

There’s a lag in the conversation - a short pause, where Hui thumbs at the receipt, before looking up, and sighing once more.

“So, I just want to say…” he begins. “…to, to clear something up.”

“Hm?”

“It’s not about  _owning_ people.” Hui says, making Hyojong sit up straight in the booth.

“Um. I…I know. I know that’s not what you meant.”

“Good,” Hui rubs behind his head, ruffling his hair, and it’s cute. “But I see where it could’ve come off that way. Except… these boys  _are_ mine. They mean a lot to me. That’s – that’s how a lot of the frats function.”

“I understand,” Hyojong nods. “I’m grateful that you guys invite me over as it is.”

Hui lights up, back into the sunshine, bright expression that he usually carries, and the mood shifts instantly.

“We love having you over!”

Hyojong isn’t sure  _why_ they do, but nonetheless, it makes him smile. Hui’s name is called, and he disappears to grab the coffee, and sit back down. The cup is big enough to last Hyojong all day, but he takes it happily, and sips.

Hui does that thing again where he smiles with his eyes. It’s obvious flirting, but Hyojong tries not to think much of it. Hui would flirt with a rock. He eye smiles back. 

“So,” Hui stirs with his straw, “I want to know everything.”

“About?”

“You,” Hui beams. “Start at the beginning of time.”

“Hm. Well, you see.” Hyojong begins, “The universe started with the big bang.”

“Ha-ha,” Hui fake laughs, but he’s still smiling. “You know what I mean. What made you get into music?”

“Oh man,” Hyojung shifts. “I think it started when my mom dragged me out of bed for dance practice.”

Hui sits up, pointing a finger, “Aha! So you  _do_ dance!”

“Sort of. Just street style, hip hop stuff. I ended up liking the music more.”

“I’ve always liked R&B,” Hui says. “There’s an underground rap scene here. They perform at the tavern down the street, and nobody ever wants to go with me.”

Hyojong perks up, “Really?”

“Yeah.” He looks up, and smiles again, “They think it’s lame.”

“Is it?”

Hui grins,  “You should go with me and find out.”

Hyojong’s eyes fall to his lips, pretty and seemingly unchapped. The shirt under Hui’s leather jacket keeps pulling, once again a deep cut that drives Hyojong up a goddamn wall. Hyojong has never cared much for sex appeal – he’s never had the urge to grip someone by the collar and kiss them silly, but here he is.

“Sure,” Hyojong shrugs. “I like rap.”

Hui looks relieved, “Cool. It’s a First Friday kind of thing.”

“Like the artwalks.”

“Si.”  

“Mm,” Hyojong nods. “I never thought you’d be into that kind of stuff.”

“I’m into a lot of stuff,” Hui winks, and Hyojong rolls his eyes.

“Alright, mathematics major.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Hui jokes, “I’ll be boring.”

It cracks a laugh out of Hyojong, “Right. What does  _‘Boring Hui’_ listen to then?”

Hui opens his mouth to answer, but he settles on fishing for his phone, and opening his music library. Hyojong fights a smile – until he forgets to. He scrolls through Hui’s music, sharing his own, until he loses track of time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bobby & bi are actually two squishy muscle pigs & i love them


	3. Chapter 3

Hyojong goes to the Pentagon house with the  _sole_ purpose of getting homework done. There’s a melody he convinced Hongseok and Jinho to sing, because it turns out the two bastards can really belt it. If he doesn’t get this project done by next week, he’s probably going to pull out every single strand of hair he has.

However, when he gets there, he’s picked up (like a damn ragdoll) and spun around, a voice only belonging to Shinwon screeching, “Hyojong-ah!”

“Fuck!”

“Shinwon, put him down.”

 Hyojong wiggles and elbows, until Shinwon lets go, and his feet make touchdown with the floor.

Kino peeps in the doorway, “We’re going on a picnic!”

Hyojong stares, expression blank. He blinks twice, before turning on his heel, and reaching for the door, “Kay, bye.”

“Nooo,” Shinwon grips the back of his shirt. “You have to come. Hui hyung said you have to.”

“Oh, Hui  _said_ so?”

“Yessir. Straight from the bossman himself.”

“I didn’t say that,” Hui calls in passing. He’s helping Yuto pack a giant ice chest. “I said he’s welcome to come if he wants to.”

“There’s gonna’ be beer.”

"And fruit snacks."

Hyojong shifts, looking around the corner, “I came to have Jinho and Hongseok record lines though.”

“Can’t you do that later?” Kino wiggles. “There’s only so much sun.”

“Yeah, as far as I know, people are perfectly capable of singing in the dark.”

Hyojong wants to say no, and Shinwon’s puppy eyes aren’t anything to blink twice at – but  _Kino’s_ puppy eyes are a whole different story.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Hyojong pouts, and Kino falls to his knees, making his eyes water on command.

“You’re going to lose,” Yuto calls. Hui appears in the doorway, just to watch Hyojong grind his teeth because Yuto’s right, he’s already lost.

They look way too excited about Hyojong tagging along. Hongmom bounces around, packing food and throwing drinks in the ice chest too – and for some reason, Hyojong thinks it’s a good idea to get in a car with Yeo One behind the wheel.

Yanan would’ve made sense. Yanan is patient and calm – Kino even, for fucks sake, would’ve been better. Yeo One drives like a bat out of hell, and Hyojong rediscovers the  _Oh Shit_ handles in the car. Hui invited him to ride shotgun with him, but when Wooseok complained about wanting to ride with him, Hyojong gave it up. Watching Hui drive is just… not something that Hyojong needs in his spank bank right now. He already has dreams about Hui in that fucking leather jacket – he needs some self-control.

They get to this park that’s seemingly abandoned, except for the few dogs running around with their owners. (For Shinwon, Hyojong resists the insistent need to pet them and call them good dogs. They must know. They must know that they are good dogs.)

They brought enough beer to last the beer-pocalypse, so when they settle under the shade of a giant tree, Hyojong has no issues in grabbing a bottle, popping it open against the trunk, and taking a swig.

Yeo One whistles, watching Hyojong down half in under a second, “Wow there. Drinking to forget?”

“Yeah,” Hyojong says, as he breathes. “That fucking car ride.”

Laughter breaks out; Yanan, who’s halfway up the tree, almost falls. 

“I’m so sorry, Hyojongie.” Hui wraps an arm around his shoulders, squeezing with a laugh, “Changgu-ah is a terrible driver.”

“Yeah, I almost died.”

“I’m not that bad!”

Kino chirps, "Yeah, you kinda’ are.”

“Shut up you fucking grape, the last time I rode with you we hit six caution cones and a construction sign.”

Yuto doubles over, wheezing,  _“Grape-“_

Hyojong laughs, as Yeo One and Kino jump at each other, rolling in the grass – but Yeo One wins easily, because all you need to do is  _breathe_ on Kino to tickle him.

It takes Hyojong a moment to realize that Hui still has an arm around his shoulders, and nobody even blinks twice about it. In a fit of nervousness, Hyojong sips his drink, jostling his arm, and Hui pulls it back without a fight. Effortlessly, he leans into Yuto's side, snuggling into his arm, until Yuto squeezes him tight, and lets him stay there.

It’s so effortless, that Hyojong’s stomach dips.

Yanan flips upside-down from the tree branch saying, “Guys, let’s play a game.”

“A drinking game?”

“It’s one in the afternoon.”

“So, a drinking game?”

“No,” Hui waves his hand. “I veto. We drove here.”

“Let’s see…” Shinwon opens his backpack, “I brought CAH, Yutnori, and a deck of plain cards.”

They discuss game details, and Hyojong zones out of the conversation. It’s a really nice day; they won’t get too many more of these, since winter is around the corner. Hyojong has a moment of clarity, where he stares at the people laughing and arguing in front of him – and it’s weird, how they’re considered his friends now.

_They choose you._

Hyojong looks up through the trees, whose leaves have already turned. There’s a slight chill, but it’s not bad. The sun is warm enough. Yanan hops down from the branch, into the lap of Kino, and he looks like one of those big labs that think they’re a lapdog, so it’s kind of adorable.

He finishes the beer, setting it aside with the other finished bottles, and flops back on the blanket, happily undisturbed by the others.

When Hyojong stirs awake, it’s because the yelling from their game has quieted down. Which is odd, in hindsight, but unconscious Hyojong thinks it’s something to worry about. There’s a hand that lightly cards through his hair – and he opens his eyes to see Wooseok pushing back his bangs.

“Hey,” the younger blinks down at him. “Alive?”

“Yes,” Hyojong closes his eyes again. The fingers feel good. His hands are warm.

“Ahhhhh, Hyojong hyung, you’re so cute.” Yeo One grins.

He opens his eyes again, sitting back up, “I’m not.”

“You kinda’ are,” Wooseok adds. “Like Jinho. Small.”

“Everyone is small compared to you,” Jinho says, looking up from his guitar. And that’s startling, because Hyojong hadn’t even noticed he brought it along. He’s good, drumming fairly complicated chords by memory, humming every so often.

The conversation continues – but Hyojong narrows in, watching Hongseok sing happily, beer in his lap. He’s talented; Hyojong is tempted to sneak a recording. It’s an English song – a folk one, that Hyojong probably heard in an H&M back in the states.

Jinho sings too, really pretty, like he does. Hyojong could never really sing. Rapping has always been more fun.

The background music is nice, watching Yeo One kick ass in Yutnori, Yuto running his hands through his hair with frustrated huffs. Hyojong is caught off guard, eyes snapping open when Hui happily joins in with Jinho, harmonizing with a vibrato to  _kill_ for.

“What the hell...” Hyojong whispers, without thinking.

Wooseok turns to him with a grin, “What? Hyung can sing, huh?”

Hui isn’t paying attention, thank goodness. His voice is incredible – he sings like he’s breathing. Like second nature.

Hyojong was holding on by a thread. Barely there, grasping at strings, trying to keep his sanity, trying to keep his thoughts away from soft hair and charismatic leaders.

But Hui leans up against Yuto's shoulder and whispers notes soft  easy and beautiful, and Hyojung falls like a punch to the face.

He leans around Wooseok to dip his hand into the ice chest, finding a can of shitty beer and snapping it open with a hiss. He downs that too, ignoring the woops from Shinwon and Wooseok.

 

~

 

The next day rolls around, and Hyojong gets that project in by the skin of his teeth. He really, really wanted to have Hui record a harmony, but he chickened out, like a wuss.

He pulled an all nighter, but the coffee he’s injected into his blood is keeping him awake enough. He can go home and nap, it’s fine.

Except, he’s not really in the mood for Hongseok to slide in next to him in class, eyebrows wiggling, face looking like he just learned Victoria’s secret.

“What?” Hyojong snaps.

“Oooh, someone’s in a bad mood.”

“Sorry,” Hyojong rubs his face. “I’m just tired.”

“Ahh, it’s fine.” Hongseok shifts, “Was it the picnic yesterday?”

“Yeah. It put me a bit behind schedule. It’s fine though.”

Hongseok shifts a little closer, “You looked like you were having fun, yeah?”

“…yeah?” Hyojong answers slowly.

“You kept watching Huiiii,” Hongseok sings. “You guys have gotten closer.”

Panic runs through Hyojong like a racehorse, so he busies himself in dragging out his laptop, and opening his notes. “Sure. We have an English class together.”

“He’s cute huh?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Do you like him?” Hongseok lowers his voice, like anyone sitting around them will know what they’re talking about.

Hyojong’s brain runs through fifty thousand different answers, but he decides to smartly settle on,  _“Hah?”_

Hongseok laughs, “You’re pretty obvious.”

“Of course I like him,” Hyojong says, saving his ass. “I like all the Pentagon members. They’re my friends.”

Hongseok’s face falls, pout in place. “Oh, come on.”

Hyojong raises an eyebrow, pulling off his best innocent look, and Hongseok stubbornly folds his arms over his chest. He leans back into his chair, “You’re no fun.”

“I have no idea what you’re on about.”

“It’s okay if you like him. You guys would be adorable together.”

Hyojong plays stupid until the professor walks in, and Hongseok is forced to drop the subject. Hyojong counts to ten, heartbeat in his ears. If he wasn’t awake before, he certainly is now.

 

~

 

Hyojong dyes his hair out of anxiousness. 

It started with a dream. It’s been a long time since he dreamt about skin on skin – about teeth and nails and sweat, of being bent over the kitchen counter, of pressing his fingers into thighs and seeing how hard he can squeeze.

He woke up that morning sweating, harder than hell, on the brink of coming in his boxers like a damn teenager. He drowned himself in the shower, pride washing down the drain.

It’s all Hui’s fault. It’s that commanding tone. The way he calms a storm – how he dresses, how he holds himself so confidently. He’s beautiful in the quirkiest of ways, and Hyojong is triple fucked, right up the ass.

So he dyes his hair, because he needs something else to think about. It’s just bleach, making the brown strands an ugly blonde, before he puts a platinum toner on it.

Hyungwon comes in halfway through with a tisk, slicking on gloves and covering all the spots he missed (thanks buddy). It doesn’t look too bad. He bleached his hair once in highschool, and got away with it just fine.

“You changed your hair!” Hui says the next day, carding his hands through it and marveling at how much softness it retained. Hyojong resists a shiver and nearly bites a hole through his tongue, creating half moons in his palms.

“Observant as always.”

“It looks so good,” Hui beams, ignoring his sass. “You’re really handsome, Hyojongie.”

Hyojong sticks out his tongue, passing off the swell of pride as playfulness. Hui is always willing to play, fingers digging harder into Hyojong’s scalp, and tugging.

“It’s so soooft,” Hui coos – he brings his cheek to rub against it, “How do you do it? I bleached my hair once and fried it to kingdom come.”

“Coconut oil. Sooo much coconut oil.”

“Ahhh,” Hui nods, still petting him like a dog. Hyojong lets him do what he wants, silently preening under the affection.

 

~

 

 He runs into Jackson from GOT7. Quite literally. _Runs_ into.

Hyungwon and his Monsta X buddies promised him a free dinner in apology for all seven crashing drunk at their apartment last week, and his last class ran late. Hyungwon is texting him fifty impatient watergun emoji’s, so he upgraded from speed walking, to a slight jog.

Unfortunately, running into Jackson Wang is like running into a metal bar, so he eats shit, and his books take a dive across the pavement.

“Oh my god!” Jackson screeches, “I’m so sorry!”

“Fuck,” Hyojong holds his nose. “Are your pecs filled with cement?”

“I’m sor- wait, oh my god really?? That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said, you know I’ve been really working out a lot and Mark says I look the same but I _told_ him- oh!” Jackson kneels, “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Hyojong laughs. “Mark needs glasses.”

Jackson’s worried face dissipates a little, and he scrambles to pick up Hyojong’s books, “Is your nose okay? Jeez, I feel terrible.”

“Don’t worry about it – thank you,” Hyojong nods, as he hands him his books.

“Oh hey!” Jackson blinks twice. “I know you. Why do I know you? Wait, wait don’t tell me-“ he holds up a hand to his temple, like he’s summoning some deep physic power. He makes an, _aha!_ noise, and points, “You’re with Pentagon! One of Hui’s boys.”

“I’m not with anybody,” Hyojong huffs.

“Oh, oops.”  

“I’m friends with them though,” Hyojong says, and Jackson makes an _ahhhh_ noise.

“Gotcha’, gotcha’. I remember you. You and Jinho kicked Jaebum and Jinyoung’s collective asses at beer pong.”

“Oh yeahhh,” Hyojong nods. “That was them, wasn’t it.”

Jackson rocks back on his heels, “Yeah dude. Are you going to MX’s party on Saturday?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Hyojong says. “Although, if Hongseok and Hyungwon have anything to do about it, I’m probably going.”

“Oh man, Hongseok is such a muscle pig,” Jackson sighs. “Body goals.”

“I’ll tell him you said that,” Hyojong jokes, swatting his shoulder, and Jackson squeaks.

 _“Ah!_ Nonono, don’t- don’t do that-“

Hyojong’s phone is insistently buzzing, but he ends up exchanging numbers with Jackson, and thus, another person he’s accidentally become friends with.

 

~

 

Hyojong isn’t dealing with this whole Hui Crisis as well as he should be. It’s probably a crush – but between deadlines, classes and random escapades with Pentagon, Hyojong doesn’t have any more time to fret over it. He crushed on a guy in the states that never knew his name. Add one more to the list.

He hasn’t had the time to just relax since their picnic. It’s getting cooler, but Hyojong still sits at an outside table out of stubbornness, digging into a makeshift lunch he threw together five minutes before he left for class.

Hyojong doesn’t mind the silence, but when it’s broken, he’s not too upset.  

“Mind if I sit here?”

The voice is recognizable – and it’s Yuto, tall and warm in a nice wool coat.

“Of course,” Hyojong pats the table, “how’s it going?”

“Good,” Yuto slaps down a grocery store bag full of cheap food. “Stats is kicking my ass.”

“Oh yeah?” Hyojong chews, “Isn’t Hui helpin’ ya’?”

“Have you ever actually gotten help from Hui?” Yuto smiles. “He’s insanely smart - and willing to help... but it’s like listening to Steven Hawking try to explain his theory on quantum gravity.”

“Ahh. So you need it in stupid people terms.”

“Exactly." 

“What major are you again?” Hyojong blinks.

“Dance,” Yuto cracks open a soda. “But I’m a freshman, and still have to get through all my general studies.”

“Gross,” Hyojong scrunches his nose. “I always forget you’re a freshman.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It’s Friday, isn’t it?” Hyojong shifts. “Doing any cool freshman things?”

Yuto’s face brightens, and Hyojong is reminded of how handsome he is. “Yeah. I’m taking Wooseok on a date.”

“Oh yeah? Where to?”

“It’s drag queen comedy night down at the gay nightclub.”

“Wow, romantic.”

Yuto laughs, “Right?”

Hyojong shrugs, “Hey, I mean, a safe place to make out in public is as good as any.”

He snaps his fingers, “You get me, Hyojong hyung.”

There’s a breeze that washes by – Hyojong’s water bottle almost takes a nosedive off the table, but Yuto catches it with one large hand, setting it back down.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Yuto bites into his sandwich. “Are you goin’ to the uh-“

“Monsta X party tomorrow?” Hyojong finishes.

“Yeah.”

“I’m not sure yet. It’s gotta’ be fuckin’ big, if so many people keep bugging me about it.”

“Not necessarily big,” Yuto explains. “Just fun. You’d expect a group with such an edgelord name to throw some serious showstoppers, but their leader is so strict about shit getting out of hand, that their parties are limited to name invite only.”

Hyojong nods, “Ah. I’ve heard Exo’s parties are like that.”

“Exo parties are invite only because Exo thinks they’re better than everyone else.”

“Oh.”  

“MMmhm. You should go though. Wonho and Minhyuk hyung make the frilliest drinks known to mankind, but they’re really good. People just sit around playing games and watching dramas.”

“Ahh, okay. That does sound fun.”

Yuto offers his soda to Hyojong, who politely declines. He nods and takes a sip, “Plus Hui is going.”

Hyojong huffs, “Why is that always a selling point?!”

Yuto plays innocent – something Kino has taught him well. He bats his eyelashes and shrugs, “Everyone likes Hui.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to split the next chapter up otherwise it woulda been 6k LMAO, ,im so sorry, im having too much fun


	4. Chapter 4

Hyojong has gotten tired of standing, so he sits in front of his closet and glares. He finished his homework early, ate a decent meal, did the laundry he’s been pushing off for weeks, but he still crosses his arms, and huffs.

 _“Hyojong!”_ Hyungwon calls, pushing open the door, “Are you comi- why aren’t you dressed?”

“I’m not going,” Hyojong says, flopping back onto the carpet, and rolling up into a ball.

Hyungwon rolls his eyes, “And you call me a drama queen.”

“Last week you saran wrapped our dishwasher because you saw a cockroach crawl in there.”

“Why are you pulling out receipts on _me_ while you lay on the floor in your boxers?” Hyungwon steps over him, reaching into his closet.

“I don’t have anything to weaaaar."

“Literally, nobody is going to care.”

 _“I_ care.”

“What about this?” Hyungwon holds up a faded striped shirt. Hyojong groans, and rolls back onto his stomach.

“Go without me.”

“I don’t think so,” Hyungwon frowns. “I didn’t do your makeup for nothing. Hold on.”

He disappears, leaving Hyojong to worm along the carpet, until he makes it to crawl in his bed. Hyungwon kicks the door back open, a little harder than intended, and holds up two sweaters.

“A or B.”

“Oh,” Hyojong sits up. “I like cats.”

It’s a grey sweater, with the barely-there outlines of cat heads, and rips all around the knit.

“It’s gonna’ be huge on me though.”

“The bigger the better,” Hyungwon throws the sweater at his face. “Put on some jeans and lets _gooooo._ ”

Hyojong slips it on – it’s big, but it’s cute. He barely has time to tie the laces on his boots before Hyungwon grips him by the back of the collar, and locks their apartment.

Hyungwon has a shitty stick shift car that likes to stall at every given opportunity, but Hyungwon has dealt with said shitty car for _so_ long, that watching him drive it is like watching Steven Erwin effortlessly wrestle an crocodile (god rest his soul).

They get there just fine, because let’s be honest, no car ride is worse than riding with Yeo One – the music is audible from outside, lights bright in the house. Cars are parked everywhere; even the lawn.

Hyungwon pushes them right past the line, where people are getting turned away left and right. All Hyungwon has to do is nod, before they’re pushed in.

It’s a real mood change. There’s music, but it’s relatively chill. The house isn’t as big as any of the other frat houses he’s been to, but it has a coziness about it. People are sitting up on the kitchen countertops – he sees a few F(x) members.

“Hey!” Wonho pops out of nowhere, and gives him a side hug. “Hyungwonie! You convinced him!”

“It was tough,” Hyungwon says, slinking an arm around Wonho’s waist, and accepting a kiss on the cheek. “He was a mess.”

“Nice try, I’m always a mess,” Hyojong says. Wonho laughs, running a hand through his beach hair before wrapping that arm around Hyungwon’s shoulders.

“Aren’t we all? Help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen. People are still filtering in.”

“Thanks,” Hyojong nods, turning to do just that. Pentagon isn’t here yet, but there’s a few familiar faces around. Hyungwon wasn’t kidding about the frilly drinks – they have little umbrellas, an assortment of bright colors. It’s adorable, especially since he gets to watch a bigass Leader Shownu walk around with a teeny weeny sparkly cocktail. 

 

~

 

When Hui shows up, all eight members behind him, the house swells bigger. Granted, it already grew a little when CLC walked in the door, but that’s not worth noting.

Hui. _Hui_ is worth noting.

Hyojong has okay self esteem. He knows he’s somewhat attractive. He’s not stunningly beautiful like Yanan or Yuto or any of the other people he’s seen walking around campus, but he’s not _terrible._

Except, Hui walks in looking like something fresh out of a porno, hair pushed back, turtleneck and patterned blazer _really_ working for him. He expects him to hold up a box, _Did someone order an extra large sausage?_

The skinny jeans look so good on him – and it’s not like Wooseok, where he’s just 90% leg, 10% torso. He just looks _good._ Somehow, he manages to look just as beautiful, if not more, than the variety of pretty people he brings trailing in behind him. He's smitten. 

“Hyojong!” Shinwon and Hongseok wave in sync. “You came!”

“You’re welcome,” Hyungwon calls from Wonho’s lap.

“Yep,” Hyojong chirps. He gives Yuto a bro hug before wrapping an arm around Hongseok’s neck. “In the end, I can’t say no to free alcohol.”

There’s a hand at his back – and he turns to see Hui, smiling, “Couldn’t agree more.”

Hyojong was feeling good, you know, until now. It would be so easy. _So_ easy to drag Hui in by his turtleneck, and shove him against the bathroom door. He’d shred the sweater apart, rip it with his nails, and never hide Hui's neck from the world again.

“Who’s the designated driver tonight?” Hyojong asks, to look away from Hui.

“That would be no one~” Jinho sings, and somehow he _already_ has a shot in each hand. “Uber is a godsent.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a thing here now, isn’t it?”

“Come on,” Shinwon urges Hui into the kitchen, “Drinks, drinks, drinks-“ Hui disappears, and Hyojong is able to breathe. Hongseok is giving him this look, eyebrows raised, and Hyojong jokingly flips him off.

 _“Ahaha,_ hey, I just got here, you can’t get mad at me yet.”

“Don’t say _anything."_

“Why?” Hongseok grins. “What’s so bad about you liking Hui?”

You know, that’s a good question.

“Nothing really,” Hyojong shifts, eyeing the kitchen; most of Pentagon away from earshot. “I’m just anxious around him. I can never tell what he’s thinking.”

“You’re both dancing around each other,” Hongseok slaps him on the back.

“I don’t think I’m anything special to him. Hui is a flirt _all the time._ ”

“So?” Hongseok dips his hand in a nearby ice chest. “Flirt back, yeah?”

Hyojong opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again, and chews on his lip. Those small, frilly drinks have more punch than he expected, because his tongue ties, and he doesn’t answer back.

“Unless you can’t,” Hongseok grins.

“Oh,” Hyojong stands up straight, meeting Hongseok in the eye. “I can.”

“Can you?” Hongseok teases, voice dropping.

“Yeah,” Hyojong stands closer, and tips his face until their noses brush. Hongseok is pretty – but he keeps laughing, so Hyojong pushes at his chest until he stumbles back.

 

~

 

Hyojong loses track of Hongseok when he downs three fruity tooty jello shots and proceeds to grip Jinho by the back of his shirt, hauling him off who knows where.

Hui bats his pretty fucking eyelashes, asking if Hyojong wants to join them in a game, and Hyojong caves like a landslide.

They’re in the living room; people sit on the floor, couch, wherever. It’s a mixture of people, kind of a mess, but it’s fine with Hyojong. It _starts_ with a simple card game, but card games go to shit, especially when Kino and Yugyeom chuck the whole stack and yell _fifty-two card pickup!_

When the game turns into spin the bottle, Hyojong doesn’t even bat an eyelash. His life is a cliché. 

“Wow,” Mark watches from the couch. “It’s like highschool all over again.”

Wonho argues, “Okay, but who actually kissed anyone _good_ during spin the bottle in high school.”

“I did,” Mark deadpans.

"Liar." 

“Dude, he’s from LA.”

Yuto is casually folded up in Hui’s side, mostly on his phone, but he comments, “Like that matters?”

“Oh, it does,” Amber says in passing, getting a laugh out of the group.

“Oh my god, just goooo,” Hyungwon sighs.

Kino flicks the bottle, and it spins twice, before slowing and landing on Yugyeom.

“Wow, lame spin.”

“We’re playing on _carpet._ ”

Kino and Yugyeom peck adorably – earning a few _awww’s._

“They’re best friends. Boring.” Jackson points, “Next, next.”

“Someone’s eager.” Hyojong teases.

“Listen, you know we all want to kiss Wonho.”

Hyojong can’t help but purse his lips and nod. He’s kind of alarmingly attractive – except, the idea of kissing Wonho doesn’t make him want to internally combust. Meanwhile there’s Hui, sitting blissfully across from him, smiling at everything and nothing. He’s not overly talkative, but he smiles and giggles, occasionally leaning over to talk to Yugyeom or Jackson. Hyojong isn’t jealous, just…infatuated. Everyone really does like Hui.

Wonho flushes, “What, why?”

“Because you’re _Wonho.”_  Hyungwon answers for him, lazily. He reaches down with his foot, and incredibly, spins the bottle. It flicks around, slowing on Mark up on the other couch.

“Am I playing?” Mark asks. Hyungwon moves to stand up, and Mark answers his own question, “Okay then.”

Hyungwon peels himself away from Wonho, tiptoeing around the bodies on the floor, and sliding into Mark’s lap.

“I’m scared,” Jackson pouts. “What if he’s a better kisser than me.”

“Probably is,” Yugyeom pipes, and gets an empty soda can chucked his way.

Mark makes lazy grabby hands at Hyungwon – who is, undoubtedly, being a big drama queen, tipping his head slow and lethargic. 

“Oh my god, hurry up,” Yugyeom sighs, reaching behind to nudge at Hyungwon’s hip – so they kiss, really deep and slow, making a big fuckin’ show out of it.

The wolf whistles come from Wonho, as well as Kino. They end up laughing, just at how extra both Hyungwon and Mark are.

“Enough, enough, enough-“ Jackson laughs, jokingly trying to tug Hyungwon back.

Hyungwon pulls away dramatically, pretending to smear his fingers along his lips like lipbalm, until he can’t take himself seriously, and laughs all the way back to Wonho.

“He’s good,” Mark notes, sitting back casually and crossing one leg over the other.

Hyojong nods. He’s never had an issue with PDA – kissing, handholding, whatever. It’s more aesthetically pleasing to watch others. It’s probably weird, but it’s something he learned to really enjoy when he dated a few poly couples.

When Jackson spins the bottle, and it lands on Hui, Hyojong’s heart lodges in his throat.

“Ooooh!!!” Jackson cheers, “How scandalous~ leader~.”

“We’ve kissed before, you ding dong,” Hui teases, tipping his head to look up at Jackson above him. He’s already almost sitting between his knees.

“Wow," Yuto comments. “Extreme Flirt One verses Extreme Flirt Two.”

"Clash of the Big Heads." 

" _Ahaha-"_

Hyojong feels himself holding his breath, but he can’t help it. He’s seen Hui kiss the other Pentagon members in passing. Pecks on cheeks, soft, gentle things, but nothing more than that.

There’s yelling from the kitchen – someone’s playing an especially _loud_ drinking game, but to Hyojong, it just narrows down to Hui, turning around on his knees to look up at Jackson.

“Oh my god – haha-“

Hui dramatically reaches up with his arms, and Jackson is just as dramatic in leaning down to him, tipping his head and slotting their lips together.

People are laughing and talking, making nonsense commentary, but Hyojong only hears his heartbeat. His eyes narrow in on Hui’s nails, slowly coming up to card through blonde hair.

But.

Hui peeps open an eye, subtle to everyone else, but Hyojong _sees._

Hui stares at Hyojong, as he thumbs his nails behind Jackson’s ears, and smirks into his mouth. Hyojong about chokes. It’s like, getting smacked in the face by a big frying pan of arousal. He’s _hot._ He’s so, so hot, Hyojong could _die._

How weird. He’s surrounded by beautiful people – the girls in the kitchen are gorgeous, the boys around him are unbelievably handsome.

But there’s a magnetic draw to Hui. Something that just makes Hyojong want to rip out of his skin, unravel like yarn and tie himself to Hui forever. It’s so unlike him.

Hui sees the look on Hyojong’s face and smiles, closing his eyes one last time, before he pulls away.

“Wooooow~”

“Sloppy,” Hyungwon comments.

“Hey, he’s actually good,” Jackson points, winded. “Don’t mess with him. I’m kinda’ hot now.”

“No shit,” Mark says, and drags Jackson back to his side. “It’s Hui.”

“A little wet,” Hui hums. “But not terrible. Eight out of Ten would kiss again.”

“Yesss,” Jackson cheers – and there’s more laughter. Hyojong can’t bring himself to laugh. He’s just, frozen in time. Like, what in the fresh hell was that? What the f u c k. He looked at him, right? Was Hyojong the only one who saw that?

They run through a few more turns, but Hyojong just thumbs across his water bottle, flicking his nail across the cap, numbly watching pairs kiss. 

Yuto silently takes his turn, and the empty bottle creeps around the floor, eventually landing on Hyojong.

“Oh,” Hyojong blinks.

“You’ve been lucky so far, Hyojongie,” Hui laughs.

“Or unlucky,” Hyungwon says. “Depends on who you are.”

Then, Hyojong notices something very, very interesting. Hui’s lip twitches, just the smallest fault in his smile.

So Hyojong’s half-drunk mind decides to take Hongseok’s advice.

“Super unlucky,” Hyojong sighs, sitting up to walk on his knees over to Yuto. “I’m surrounded by attractive people, and haven’t been able to kiss _one._ ”

“Well, you’ll still be at zero after this,” Kino chirps, and Yuto reaches back to try and slap him.

_“Ass!”_

There’s eyes burning on him, as he sits back on his knees, and waits for Yuto to turn back around. He doesn’t look nervous – just annoyed at Kino. Still, he sits up and asks, “You good?”

Hyojong rolls his eyes, “I wouldn’t be playing if not.”

His eyes betray him, flickering over to check Hui’s reaction. It’s surprisingly neutral, for someone who’s the epitome of sunshine. Yuto sees his eyes – sees him watching Hui – so Yuto smiles, cheeky and knowing, “Okay.”

And then a hand braces behind his head, pulling Hyojong closer, tipping his head quite expertly. Hyojong inhales – Yuto's lips are warm and slightly chapped, but he’s not a bad kisser. Slow and purposeful and passionate. It’s deeper than Hyojong was expecting, so he hums. There’s playful drunken hoots and hollers – and Hyojong tries to speed up the kiss, just to get a bigger reaction.

Kissing Yuto isn’t bad at all. He knows what he’s doing – a little messy maybe, but Hyojong has never been too averse to French kisses.

“Woahhh cowboy-“

“Aww fuck, look at their height difference.”

“They’re kinda’ cute!”

“Boring,” Marks says. “They’re from the same group.”

“But they’re not!”

“Not _yet-_ “

They pop apart comedically. Yuto looks just as stone-faced as ever. Hyojong knows he’s flushing, but wills it away. His eyes check for Hui- but he’s not even watching, checking his phone. Hyojong frowns, sitting back on his knees and huffing. Whatever.

“That was so _saucy._ ”

“Can you stop saying saucy?” Kino barks at Yugyeom. “That’s never going to be a thing.”

Hyojong finds his seat again – there’s knuckles on his shoulder, a light brush from Hyungwon to get his attention. Hyojong reaches back around to pat his knee, a noted _I know_ that he doesn’t need to say out loud.

Hui loses interest with the game, getting up and wandering off, and Hyojong totally counts it as a win. The feeling is borderline euphoric, so he doesn’t bother hiding his smile.

 

~

 

He finds Hui by himself, sitting on the wooden swing out in the backyard. Jinho and Hongseok are actually not dead, but instead passed out together on one of the pool lawn chairs. At least there's that.

Hyojong rubs behind his head, sighing, messing up his hair in the process. It’s weird seeing Hui by himself at a party. He’s usually in the middle of it all, keeping a careful eye, all while being the kingpin of the mess.

He sits next to him, and Hui startles just a little.

“Oh! Hyojongie.”

“Hey,” he nods. “You look lonely.”

“Do I?” Hui laughs. He pushes his feet on the swing a little, and it rocks. “Just drunk. Minhyuk doesn’t mess around with those jello shots.”

“True. I drank something blue, and I’m still not sure if it was Windex or alcohol.”

“Are you having fun?” Hui asks.

Hyojong offers a smile, “Yeah. Yanan told me about the time Wooseok got the arm of a Buzz Lightyear toy lodged in his throat, and I’ve honestly never laughed that hard.”

Hui sputters into laughing, his face brightening back up again, “Ahh. It’s funny in hindsight, but I had a panic attack.”

“I’m sure,” Hyojong pushes this time, swinging them slightly. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“I love them,” Hui sighs. His head tips back, resting on the back of the bench. He looks up at the sky, the stars barely visible. “I really do.”

Hyojong isn’t sure what prompts him to place his hand on Hui’s thigh, but he does anyway. “I see it.” It becomes more obvious every day. A draw towards them all. They’re growing on him.

Hui’s eyes flicker to Hyojong, head unmoving, and Hyojong feels the tension wind, like a music box. He squeezes his thigh once, pulling his hand away after subtly running his nail against the inseam of Hui’s jeans.

Hui is just looking at him now, head resting on the back of the bench, left leg propped up slightly. They rock, just a little, and there’s the sound of screaming and laughing from inside the house, but it’s lost to Hyojong’s ears. He’s warm and bubbly, now left with an aftertaste from the alcohol he had earlier.

A lone cricket sings. 

“You know…” Hui begins, voice hot and rough. “I was kind of disappointed when I spun the bottle earlier.”

“Yeah?” Hyojong croaks.

“Mm. I wanted it to land on you.”

Hyojong swallows hard, eyes flickering back down to his feet as he rocks them once more. “Ha,” he manages. “You’re good.”

“At?”

“Being such a flirt,” Hyojong smiles. “It’s impressive.”

Hui snorts, eyes flickering to look at the sky once more. “They say if you do what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life.”

Hyojong laughs, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I dunno’.” Hui says, head rolling back to look at him again, but this time they’re closer.

It should be awkward. The way neither of them say a thing, just looking at each other, as twenty grown adults gather around a wii to play Trival Pursuit inside the house. But it’s not. It’s not awkward at all. Hui's eyes are a warm shade of brown, alluring, as they pick up light quite easily. 

For a moment, the heartbeat in Hyojong’s throat dissipates. Any unease, any anxiety. It’s just gone.

Hyojong leans down, tipping his head just slightly.

He kisses Hui.

It’s an odd angle, but Hui kisses back without hesitation, and Hyojong’s eyes fall shut.

It’s brief, but it tingles from the tip of his head to his toes. It’s everything, overwhelming, but suddenly peaceful, like it’s right. The kisses aren’t stagnate, not an awkward press. It’s slow movement, better than the movies. His lips are just as soft as Hyojong imagined; he kisses like he talks, without second thought , without shame.

Hyojong pulls back and manages to say, “There.”

Hui laughs, pulling back and slumping back into the bench. “Ahh, I’m happy.”

“You’re weird." 

“Nah,” Hui lifts a hand up to the stars, lining them up with the tips of his fingers. “Just gay.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Movie night means deconstructing the entire house, and rebuilding it in the living room. Couches are pushed tougher, beanbags dragged in from bedrooms, blankets thrown everywhere.

Deciding on what to watch during said movie night has caused some of the worst fights in the house, from what Hyojong has heard, so there’s a rotational system. They’re watching a Chinese movie that Hyojong has never heard of before, but he’s not sure how long he plans on staying awake, so.

It’s interesting, in hindsight, how comfortable he’s grown around all nine of them. When Yuto tugs him into his lap, and Yanan presses in against his arm, Hyojong doesn’t even blink twice. Hui is happily snuggled in with Jinho on one of the beanbags. They’re giggly tonight, the two eldest whispering to each other, pressing kisses to palms.

“Shut  _up,_ ” Hongseok throws a pillow, and they laugh harder.

Hyojong doesn’t feel jealousy. That word doesn’t exist in the Pentagon house. Not really.

It’s more...a strong yearning. They haven’t talked about anything since the party. Well, they’ve  _talked,_ but it’s been their usual nonsense, sassy banter and questions about in class notes, yada yada.

Yanan conks out against his shoulder, so Hyojong lifts a hand to rest against his head. The parties are fun, but he might like Pentagon sober just a little more.  Yuto shifts beneath him, and Hyojong turns his head, “Am I heavy?”

Wooseok laughs from Yuto’s left side, and Yuto snorts, lazily wrapping his arms around his waist, “Not at all.”

“Is Yanan asleep?” Shinwon perks up. “This was his movie choice, goddammit.”

“Let him sleep,” Hui waves. “He was up all night doing an essay.”

Hyojong pets his head, and Yanan doesn’t flinch. Hui turns around to look, and Hyojong offers a smile to hide the way his pulse jumps.  Yuto must feel it, because he hides a laugh in Hyojong’s shoulder. Hui smiles and turns back around in the beanbag, and Hyojong elbows Yuto in the ribs.

_“Hrk-_ “ Yuto grunts; Wooseok hides his laugh with his hands. He can feel Hongseok staring at him, that quizzical, judging look, but Hyojong ignores it.

They’ll talk.  _Eventually._

Instead he dozes in and out of consciousness, eventually lulling to sleep when he feels Wooseok draw slow circles up and down his arm, with the pads of his fingers.

 

~

 

Hyojong would wall up in his room, but he knows it’s useless anyways. Hyungwon’s friends lounge around the apartment like they own the place, so he might as well put them to use.

“At least, that’s what I did,” their maknae says, scratching behind his head. “I dunno’, I took the class in highschool.”

“Overachiever,” Hyojong huffs, making Changkyun laugh.

“It’s dumb. Critical thinking is relative anyways. Some people are just born stupid. Like Kihyun hyung.”

“I swear to god,” Kihyun barks, “I’ll kick your ass."

"You can't~ that's child abuse." 

Hyojong thanks Changkyun for his help, before pulling his laptop to his chest, and curling up to finish the stupid essay. He ignores whatever yelling is going on in their bathroom, and types away, until a notification pops up on his laptop; it’s a text from Hongseok.

 

{5:45 p.m.}

_> Hey bud_

_> were gonna’ go do some community service at the old folks home, u wanna come with?_

Hyojong snorts, texting back.

 

{5:46 pm.}

_Wow. What good little boys you are <_

 

 

_{5:46 p.m.}_

_> Lmao, I mean, with nine able bodied guys, it doesn’t_ _  
_take long to paint some fences__

_> plus they usually have cookies_

 

 

{5:47 p.m.}

_That actually sounds fun <_

_can’t tho, I procrastinated on this essay too much <_

 

 

_{5:48 p.m.}_

_> dw abt it buddy ^^_

_> we shall miss you_

_> hui also_

_> hui misses you_

_> are ya’ll ever gonna talk_

 

{5:49 pm.}

_hhhh <_

_I don’t know what I want anymore <_

 

 

{5:49 p.m.}

> _why?_

_> too much baggage?_

_> is it because we’re so touchy with him?_

_> I’d offer to stop, but I don’t think we could_

 

 

{5:50 p.m.}

_No <_

_That actually doesn’t bother me at all <_

 

Hyojong rubs his face, sighing as Shownu comes pattering through the room, Hyungwon on his back.

 

 

{5:52 p.m.}

_I don’t want to be a distraction <_

_Do you really think he can handle one more person to worry about <_

 

 

{5:52 p.m.}

_> I’m going to be frank with you,,_

_> a lot of us have slept together_

 

 

{5:52 p.m.}

_And water is wet <_

 

{5:52 p.m.}

_> shut UP_

_> a lot of us have slept together but like_

_> I think Hui needs someone to belong to_

_> someone to really pour his whole heart into_

_> and I think he really likes you_

 

Hyojong taps his phone against his forehead, breathing in and out, eyes closed.

 

{5:55 p.m.}

>  _Hyojong._

_> would you ever join pentagon?_

 

 

{8:07 p.m.}

_I don’t know <_

 

~

 

Hyojong buries himself in his studies for the next few weeks. They’re already past midterms, thank fuck, but it’s still all downhill. Pentagon invites him to stuff here and there, which is fine. He likes hanging out with them, and he doesn’t mind the distraction sometimes. His relationship with Hui is the same as it was before the MX party; flirty and vague. 

There’s a night where instead, there’s a knock on  _his_ door, people filling into his apartment with an assortment of junk food.

“What’s going on here?” Hyojong had asked.

“We’re your personal cheer squad!” Jinho waves, sticking his arms up. “We heard you’re struggling with a project.”

Hyojong peeks around to look at Hyungwon in his room, who is very blatantly pretending to read.

They shoved donuts in his face, sat around and helped him glue pieces of Styrofoam together, Shinwon and Hongseok bickering as they painted tiny trees green.

It still makes Hyojong smile when he thinks about it. Hui stayed late, even after everyone passed out on the floor.

That memory alone might be the only thing keeping Hyojong sane right now – he likes them a lot. But he wants to  _kill_ whoever came up with the bright idea of swimming in the middle of winter.

“This is s-s-so fucking stupid,” Hyojong barks, curled up on the lawn chair.

“Dude, it’s heated,” Wooseok splashes. “You’ll be warmer if you just get in.”

Hyojong makes a hissing noise, and shivers in his swimsuit.

Hyojong watches Hui meander over, dipping his toe in, before making an affirmative noise. Then he tosses his shirt, jumping into the pool and laughing when he emerges. Hyojong stares dizzily, at how soft and smooth and pretty his chest is. He's not shredded like Hongseok, but he has a very obvious V that creeps beneath his swim trunks, and Hyojong kind of wants to see how far it goes.

“Come on, kitty cat!” Yeo One coos. They’re all paddling around – Kino starts making cat call noises, and everyone joins in.

“Kitty kitty kitty~”

“I hate this,” Hyojong lies. “I’m leaving. Never coming back.”

“Wooseok. Yanan.” Hui points. “Fetch.”

_“No-“_

They crawl out of the water, laughing.

Hyojong stands up, “No no no-“

He turns on his heel and books it across the grass, but it only takes two long strides from the Bean Poles before they’ve reached him. Curse them and their long arms, for gripping him around the waist, and picking him up like he weighs nothing. They're soaking- 

“Fuck! No! No no no-“ Hyojong squirms, “It’s  _cold-_ “

“One…” Yanan counts. “Two…”

“Be careful,” Hongseok calls. “Watch his head.”

Everyone else makes room in the pool – Hui holds his arms out, just in case. Yanan and Wooseok toss him easily, and Hyojong lands safely in the water.

Oh.

“Oh.” Hyojong says, when he emerges, sopping.

“See!” Kino hops up on his back, arms around his neck, “Totally warm.”

A breeze washes by, and they all make different noises of complaint, sinking back into the warm water. Kino squeals away. 

“You were saying?”

“Uhh.”

Hyojong paddles around, getting used to the water. “How much did you spend to heat this pool?”

“Too much,” Hongseok sighs.

“Shush,” Shinwon splashes him. “It’s  _fun._ Poopy pants.”

“Party pooper.” Yeo One adds.

“Party pooper pants.”

Hyojong is once again reminded of how well built Hongseok is, because he wraps an arm around each of their necks, and hauls them into the deep end of the pool. Hui doesn’t even look concerned, as he floats around on a pool noodle.

The pool lights change through an array of colors, the night sky dark above them, and it’s almost a romantic setting. The house lights are on inside, music playing in the distance. It still smells like the meal they cooked earlier. He sees Yuto and Wooseok paddling around in the deeper end, talking low to each other, swinging hands in the water, and it’s really cute.

“Attack!” Jinho shouts, reaching around to grip at Hyojong’s sopping shirt, and yank up, peeling it off halfway.

Hyojong curses, jumping at the cold hands, and wiggling when he gets stuck.

“Ahhh, cute!” Kino beams. He pushes his fingers into Hyojong’s stomach. He’s not ticklish, but the fingertips make him flinch. “Oooh, you have a little muscle.” Kino pokes in, push push, tap tap, and Hyojong sputters into the fabric of his shirt.

Jinho helps him get it off, tossing it onto the deck with a wet slap. Hyojong whips his head to flick water out of his eyes.

“Impressive,” Hongseok says, casually drowning Shinwon in the distance. “I’m surprised all those brownies you ate last week haven’t caught up to you.”

“Yeah, I totally hit the gym,” Hyojong lies. “Biceps. Triceps. Quadceps. Pentaceps. I work it all.”

There’s laughter, and water splashes at him, making Hyojong laugh too.

“Oh yeah?” Hui smiles, softly splashing him again, “I’ve never seen a pentacep before.”

“It’s actually a buttcheek,” Yeo One plays along.  

Jinho wiggles, “Oh, I’ve got the  _best_ pentaceps then.”

“You know who’s got the best ass though?” Kino offers.

“Who?”

“Jinyoung, from GOT7.”

“Fuck, you’re right.”

“Hey!” Jinho huffs. “ _I_ have the best ass.”

“Eh…they’re kinda’ like, two pancakes.”

Jinho scrambles over to Wooseok, climbing him like a pole and reaching to rip out his hair.

_“You_ have a pancake ass, you  _lamp post._ ”

“Ahah-“ Wooseok fights, trying to push him off, “I never said I  _didn’t._ ”

Hyojong finds himself laughing, just because watching a tiny Jinho-hyung wrestle a 189 cm baby Wooseok is kind of hilarious. A splash comes from behind, making Hyojong sputter on his laugh – and it’s Hui, biting his lip in a cheeky smile. He’s handsome, water dripping from his hair, all the angular lines of his body lit up from the pool lights.

“Cm’ere,” Hyojong curls his index finger.

“Nope.”

“Come here,” Hyojong says, this time smiling, carding through the water.

Hui has the gall to fucking giggle, before wrapping an arm around Yanan, and hopping onto his back. Yanan almost chokes, but he quickly grips his thighs. “You can’t touch me up here.”

“Hyung…”

_“Shinwon!”_ Hyojong calls. “I need a tall!”

“I got chu’ buddy,” Shinwon crouches down. Hyojong climbs on his shoulders.

Hyojong shifts, “Wow, so much sitting room.”

“Oh!” Yeo One perks up. “Are we having a chicken fight?”

He doesn’t get an answer, as Hyojong is busy having his hands interlocked with Hui’s, making intelligible noises and pushing at the other. Hui is stronger than he anticipated.  

“Give in!” Hui laughs.

“Don’t!” Shinwon tries to elbow Yanan, who squeals away. “Kick his ass!”

Kino climbs Yeo One easily, and once Jinho catches wind, he hops up on Hongseok as well.

“Yuto!” Wooseok waves, “Get on my shoulders.”

"That’s not fucking fair.”

Wooseok beams, Yuto perfectly balanced on his shoulders. 

“Mush,” Yuto points.

“Fuck that,” Hyojong pats Shinwon beneath him, “Bail dude, bail.”

Wooseok and Yuto (slowly) paddle forwards in the water, the other pairs scrambling away in fear. It only takes one chill breeze to end it all – the boys jumping off shoulders and back into the warm water.

“Oh my god,” Kino shivers, wiggling in the water. “My balls are in my stomach, Jesus fuck.”

“That reminds me. Whose idea was this again?”

“It was Shin-mmf!” Yeo One sputters, when Shinwon slaps a hand over his mouth, and shoves him towards the deep end.

“Shinwonie…” Hyojong sighs. “My chicken friend. You’ve betrayed me.”

He didn’t expect anyone to laugh, but when they do, it makes him feel a little better. Hyojong watches bodies splash, hitting each other with pool noodles, despite it almost being midnight. An arm props up on his shoulder, but Hyojong doesn’t even flinch.

“You fit in here,” Hui says, lazily leaning on him. The water laps up to their chests, so the weight makes them sway. Hyojong doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t push Hui away either.

 

~

 

Getting out of the pool is a whole process. They hold hands, all ten of them, counting down to run out into the cold. The towels are piled up a good eight feet away on a bench, and the house is another ten from there. 

Of course, Wooseok books it first, the false start sputtering Hongseok and Shinwon into screaming after him. Yeo One steals an extra towel, but when Yanan ends up without one, he hands it over.

There’s yelling all the way up into shower, puddles pooling in their path. Hyojong doesn’t question the buddy system they implement – he just towels himself moderately dry, and sits at the barstool. It’s silent now, other than the showers going, and the distant, muffled laughter down the hall.

Hui is the only other one left here. There’s a specific tone about the room; from the pool still sparkling out the windows, to the low overhead kitchen lights. They smell like chlorine, skin slightly dry now.

“Here,” Hui says, sliding a mug his way. “I put a ridiculous amount of honey in it.”

“You’re great,” Hyojong chirps. He takes the tea, and lets it warm the palms of his hands. He’s not that cold now that they’re inside, but he’s thankful for the notion anyways.

They’re silent, but it’s not bad. Hyojong feels weight behind his eyelids, muscles relaxed and tired. Hui leans up against the countertop, towel wrapped around his waist, and watches Hyojong with a sleepy expression.

“Kino is driving you home, right?”

“He said he would,” Hyojong sips.

“I can drive if you need me to.”

“You had a drink earlier,” Hyojong waves him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

Hui nods, “Hm. Right.”

“I feel like a bad hyung though,” Hyojong smiles. “Kino driving me home and all. I need a car.”

Hui shrugs, “He likes driving. Sometimes he just fills up his gas tank and leaves with whoever wants to come with.”

“Mm,” Hyojong hums. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s a good kid.”

Hui snorts, “I mean, I guess.”

“How’d he join?” Hyojong trails his thumb along the handle of the mug. “You know. How’d you accept three freshman this year?”

“Ahh,” Hui runs a hand through his hair, pushing back his bangs. The chlorine adds a stiffness to his hair, gel-like and attractive. “Changgu knew Kino from highschool. Kino straight up knocked on the door and demanded he be let in.”

Hyojong laughs, “I’m not surprised.”

“He’s cute,” Hui smiles. “I told him if he could steal the six hundred dollar champagne siting in Exo’s fridge, I’d let him in.”

“Oh my god, did he do it?”

“Hell no,” Hui laughs. “Smart kid. He went out, photoshopped the label on some grocery store champagne and slammed it on the countertop. I gave him points for creativity.”

Hyojong spins a little in the barstool, fighting to keep the smile off his face. “I’m not surprised. What’d you make Yuto and Wooseok do?”

“Oh, nothing,” Hui grins. “I let them in immediately.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah. Wooseok was bullied pretty hard the first few weeks of the semester, you know.”

Hyojong’s smile drops, “Are you fucking serious? _Wooseok?”_

“I know right? He’s this six-foot-two giant on the basketball team, who gets made fun of for the stretch marks on his knees. A whole new level of fucked up.”

Hyojong stops spinning, “So what happened?”

“Well, one day,” Hui reaches for fruit bowl sitting on their counter, “I was walking to class, when I saw the cute new Yuto from the dance team punch a kid in the face for calling Wooseok a slur.”  

“Holy shit,” Hyojong sits up. _“Yuto did?”_

“Mmhm. I could tell the kid had never punched a soul in his life, because he almost broke his hand. He started to seriously panic when he knocked the idiot out – so I called in Hongseok to do some damage control, and took the two back to the house.”

“Wow,” Hyojong stirs the spoon in his tea. “All in the first week, huh?”

“I like it,” Hui smiles. “I like how busy the house is.”

“Isn’t it weird?”

“Weird how?”

“One day they won’t be yours anymore,” Hyojong shrugs. “One day you’ll pass it down to someone else, yeah?”

Hui takes a bite out of an apple. The clock reads almost two in the morning, but to Hyojong here, time loses its meaning.

“I don’t know what you’ve been told about other groups…but…” Hui looks up through his eyelashes, apple resting against his lips. He smiles, “Pentagon lives and dies with me. No matter where they go, what they do, who they marry. Pentagon will always be mine.”

There’s something about the tone in Hui’s voice. It makes Hyojong shiver. The air is thin between them. His eyes flicker down to the cooled tea between his palms, tongue sticking in his mouth.

“Do they know?”

“I make it pretty clear,” Hui says, and takes a big snapping bite off the apple.

It falls silent again. It’s quiet enough to hear one of the showers cut off, and the talking get a little louder. Hui takes another bite, content to look out the big windows by the nook.

_“Hyung!_ ” They hear. _“Downstairs shower is free!”_

“Thanks!” Hui calls, unmoving. He takes another bite of the apple, and Hyojong’s eyes fall to his lips. He thinks of the kiss they had, all those weeks ago. The memory is blurry now, Hyojong’s lips no longer tingling when he thinks about it. But he’s thought about it so much. So much, that his brain has turned it into something more than it was. Hui still isn’t wearing a shirt, and Hyojong doesn’t bother hiding his stare anymore. The dip of his collarbones is deep, all the smooth lines of his chest pure and markable.

Hui breaks the silence, dropping the apple core in the trash, “You know…”

“Hm?”

“Remember that underground tavern I told you about?” Hui turns, hands folding together in his lap. “The one with the freestyle nights?”

“Yeah,” Hyojong nods. “Every first Friday.”

“Have you gone?”

“Not yet.”

“It’s next week,” Hui says, eyes flickering to Hyojong’s face, before glancing away. “I can pick you up.”

Hyojong sits, staring at the tea that’s gone cold. He pushes it slightly away, and bravely says, “Is it a date?”

Hui tongue flicks to wet his lips, which have been sucked dry by the chlorine. “Can be.”

It's silent. The chair beneath Hyojong squeaks once. His heart sours, right out his chest. 

Hyojong tries (tries) to fight his smile, but he loses, leaning his elbow on the counter, head in his hand, and saying, “Okay.”

Hui grins, Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“ _Hyoooojong hyung!”_ Kino slides in, with wet hair and fuzzy socks. “Are you ready?”

“Yes sir,” Hyojong salutes, standing up off the barstool.

“Friday,” Hui points.

“Friday.” Hyojong repeats.

Kino sorts through the key ring holder, as voices call,

_“Hyung! Are you leaving?”_

“Yep!” He grabs his bag, finding his sweatshirt and throwing it on. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Spend the niiiight,” Shinwon calls, pretty darn naked. “It’s so late.”

“Dammit, put on some fucking clothes,” Hongseok pulls him by the hair. “You’re gonna’ poke someone’s eye out. Oh, and bye Hyojong.”

“Buh bye~” Jinho patters up to him from the hall, in a robe that obviously doesn’t belong to him. He wraps his arms around Hyojong’s waist, pressing his face right into Hyojong’s shoulder, so Hyojong can’t help but hug him back. He’s so snuggly-

“Alright, alright,” Hui smiles, “Let him go home.”

“Found ‘em!” Kino cheers, holding up the car keys.

“Bye Jinho,” Hyojong pats his head, and Jinho doesn’t take offense to it.

Just as Kino is hopping into the car, Hui grabs Hyojong in a quick hug too. Hui has this way of hugging you – where his hand cradles the back of your head, and his arm comes to squeeze around your waist.

“See you soon,” Hui says, and pulls away.

“Yeah,” Hyojong says, holding his breath until he’s safely in Kino’s car. Kino gives him many eyebrow wiggles and elbow nudges, until Hyojong spills all the details.

 

~

 

 It’s a Tuesday night, and rather than walling up in his room like he would have at the start of the semester, instead he’s laying on the giant blanket pile that Hyungwon has dragged into their tiny living room, the T.V. (which rests atop a large cardboard box) playing some reality show on mute.

Hyojong groans, arms growing tired from holding his book above his nose, turning to roll on his stomach.

“Same,” Hyungwon sighs, curled up with another blanket.

“When will the cookies be done?”

“Dunno, go check.”

“I could do without the sass,” Hyojong pushes his toes into the side of Hyungwon’s skinny leg.

“Thirteen minutes,” Hyungwon says, grabbing his foot, making Hyojong screech and pull his foot back. Hyungwon snorts, “Are you ticklish?”

“No,” Hyojong huffs. “Not anywhere else.”

“Ha.”

Hyojong sighs into his textbook, the words blurring. He rolls again, onto one of the pillows in their fort. “Hyungwonieee.”

“Ew, what?”

“Why don’t you live with MX?”

Hyungwon sets down his book, pursing his lips for a second, before shrugging. “I only joined a year ago. I wasn’t too keen on living with so many people in one house.”

“Will you move?”

“I have no idea.” Hyungwon pushes his hair back. “I’m not terribly against it anymore.”

“You’re not as much of an introvert as you were.”  

“Whatever,” Hyungwon rolls his eyes. “When’s your date?”

Hyojong sputters, “Who told you?”

“Honey, word spreads ridiculously fast around here.”

Hyojong frowns, turning back to look at his book. He hates that thinking about Friday gives him nerves. It’s just _a_ date. He’s been on dates before, thanks.

It’s just not like him. He’s usually confident, usually not too hung up on whatever he says. But there’s something about Hui that makes him want to make a good impression – even though Hui has already seen him have a drunken wrapping-paper-tube-star-wars-fight with Wooseok at two in the morning, so.

Still.

“What are you going to wear?” Hyungwon asks, nonchalantly.

“Couldn’t tell ya.”

Hyungwon looks up, glances him up and down, and decides to say, “You’ll be fine. Stop stressing.”

Hyojong flops back and sighs, “He’s just really hot. He could wear a potato sack, and still be hot. He could wear dad jeans, and _still_ be hot.”

“He’s cute.”  Hyungwon waves his hand around. “But so are you, so. Chill.”

“Was that your idea of a pep talk?” Hyojong grins. “I’m touched.”

“I like ya’, Hyojong,” Hyungwon kicks him. “I think if Pentagon didn’t have you locked the fuck down, then my members would’ve moved in on you.”

Hyojong blinks, “Huh?”

Hyungwon smirks, fingers running up and down the corner of his textbook, “Oh come on.”

“What?”

“Aren’t you curious as to why you haven’t been seriously hit on since the Ikon skedaddle?” Hyungwon laughs. “It’s like you’ve got nine guard dogs.”

Hyojong frowns, “Why? They don’t think I can handle myself?”

“No, ding dong. They just don’t want you to get snatched up by anyone else.”  

Hyojong sits, thinking of the parties he’s been to since that first one. There’s always a Pentagon member somewhere, standing in the corner of the room, playing the same game as him, holding his hand, talking with him, arm in arm.

Oh.

It’s almost annoying? Like a dog marking its territory? But it’s also really really flattering.

“They’re soo infatuated with you,” Hyungwon flips the page. “Especially Hui.”

Hyojong isn’t sure what to say to that.

The buzzer goes off, and they both jump to yell _not it!_ Hyungwon is slightly faster, so he makes a triumphant noise, and sits back into the fort.

Unsurprisingly, as they sit and eat cookies, Hyojong feels better.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Hyojong gets an A minus on a quiz he about died over, so when Friday comes, he’s in a really good mood.

Hyungwon is adamant about doing his makeup before he goes, so Hyojong lets him. He doesn’t stress about his clothes or his hair or his shoes or any other dumb thing, because this is the Hui that has very much become a best friend. 

Granted, when he swings open the door to see Hui standing there, smiley and well dressed in street clothes, Hyojong’s stomach flips and curls, but that’s only because he really likes Hui. A lot. It's like being sixteen again, but without the achne.

“Hey,” Hui grins.

“Hiya,” Hyojong closes the door behind him, and flips the lock with his key. “Ready?”

“Yeah, totally.” Hui nods, “You look good.”

“Thanks,” Hyojong elbows him, “You too. Where’d you get that jacket?”

“I stole it from Yuto,” Hui laughs. He goes to open the car door for him, but Hyojong waves him off.

“Ah,” Hyojong steps in, “Does he have a plethora of jackets, or-“

“Yes, black and pink only.”

Hyojong snorts, “Of course.”

Hui pushes up his sleeves, fishing out his keys and turning on the engine of the car. The inside is nice and clean, unsurprisingly, but there’s a cute banana air freshener and a cat plush sitting in the window, and at that moment, Hyojong knows he’s chosen a good one.

“You can have the aux chord,” Hui says. He snaps his seatbelt in and shifts the car into gear.

“I like you,” Hyojong deadpans. He shifts in the seat to pull his phone out of his back pocket.

Hui laughs; he hesitates before throwing his hand behind Hyojong’s headrest, and backing out of the parking spot, “What a relief.”

Hyojong rolls his eyes, pulling up a random album and setting his phone in the cup holder. “Come on, you knew. Everyone knew.”

“Knew what?” Hui plays.

Hyojong pouts as he rolls his lower lip between his teeth. Hui doesn’t say a thing, smiling softly, flicking on his blinker and driving just as calm and smooth as Hyojong expected. He’s really going to make him say it, huh?

“That I like you,” Hyojong finally sighs. He relaxes back into the seat, and watches the streetlamps pass by.

Hui looks beyond content – like the cat who got his cannery and ate it too. He smiles, running his thumb along the edge of the steering wheel. “To be perfectly honest, I didn’t know until very recently.”

Hyojong blinks, “What, really?”

“Yeah. Hongseok said if I didn’t ask you out soon, then he was going to do it for me. There was also something about punching me in the face.”

Hyojong bursts out laughing, “Oh wow, thanks Hongseok. Glad to know I’m on a date out of threat.”

Hui laughs with him, one hand leaving the wheel to blindly push at his thigh, “That’s not the only reason! Haha, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was actually really nervous.”

“I’m just kidding,” Hyojong sinks back in his seat, and doesn’t move Hui’s hand from his leg. His hand is warm, the heat transferring through his jeans. It’s borderline possessive, and kind of a turn on, so Hyojong speaks to distract himself. “You don’t come off as the kind of person that gets nervous.”

“Not usually,” Hui agrees. He squeezes Hyojong’s thigh once, before pulling back his hand to flip his blinker and turn the wheel. “How’s it feel to be a special snowflake?”

“Great. I feel like I have some leeway now.”

Hui snorts, and it makes Hyojong smile. The tips of his ears are red, which is really interesting and also very very cute. Hyojong has always liked Hui’s piercings. He doesn’t have as many as Hyojong, but he changes his studs out for hoops sometimes, and it’s attractive.

The song changes to one they both know, so they roll down the windows and sing to the streets they pass by.

 

~

 

Hui wasn’t kidding about the whole underground thing. The entrance is down the stairs of an alleyway, lit up by one of those old finicky neon lights. It sweeps down like a basement, with a dusty antique store right above it. There’s bouncers outside, but after showing ID, they’re let in without a fuss.

It’s a little stuffy, but the vibe of the place is kinda’ vintage-y and cool. There’s a bar, with a small stage around the corner. It’s relatively busy; someone is already performing, sitting on a barstool, rapping soft enough to be background music.

“Oh wow,” Hyojong breathes. It’s a familiar scene, and the nostalgia of it makes him smile.

“There’s a table over there,” Hui gestures; he grips Hyojong’s arm, lightly guiding him over to a small booth. Hui orders drinks from the tiny waitress waddling around, and Hyojong sits back to watch.

“Is it a competition night?” Hyojong asks, low.

Hui nods, “Should be. I think anyone who signs up gets to participate.”

“Just locals?”

“Usually. I’ve only watched once or twice, but it’s been cool every time I’ve come.”

Hyojong nods. He realizes that he should be watching the performer, and _not_ Hui, but it’s hard not to. Hui smiles when they get their drinks, sipping his politely.

“Hey, don’t try to act all posh now,” Hyojong jokes. “I saw you do that keg stand.”

Hui laughs behind his hand, “You saw that?”

“It was impossible to miss.”

Hui laughs again. He says something that barely registers– Hyojong just... gets so _lost_ in him. His smile is horribly contagious, and Hyojong finds himself laughing more than usual. If there was ever any awkwardness between them, it fades away through teasing and soft conversation. Occasionally an artist performs that grabs their attention, but in-between they trade drinks and talk about nothing important. Hyojong likes it. Talking about nonsense.

Hui is a gentleman, in every sense of the word, but he’s also a big doof; Hui likes cheesy sitcoms and action movies just like everyone else – he laughs at dumb jokes and builds a tiny house out of the salt packets on the table. Hyojong finds himself playing along.

When a hand taps on his shoulder, Hyojong forgets where he is. He looks up, blinking in surprise, at a face he hasn’t seen in years. Two. Two faces.

“E’Dawn?”

Hyojong stands up, mouth agape, “Rapmon?.... Suga?”

“See!” Namjoon turns to Yoongi, “I told you it was him.”

“Holy shit,” Yoongi breathes, clasping Hyojong’s hand and pulling him in for a bro hug. “I didn’t know you moved back.”

“Just this semester,” he smiles.

“Wow,” Namjoon cackles. “This is crazy. You never texted us!”

“I thought you were busy!”

“I mean we _are,_ but still!”

“Um,” Yoongi interrupts, looking to Hui. “Are we…”

“Oh!” Hyojong turns, gesturing to Hui, who has stood up by now. “This is Hui.”

“Nice to meet you,” Namjoon bows politely.

“Same to you,” Hui nods. “Are you guys old friends?”

“You could say that,” Namjoon wraps an arm around Hyojong’s shoulder and squeezes. Deep down, Hyojong finds satisfaction in the way Hui tenses.

“Are you guys still going to school?”

“Yep! We got accepted as trainees, you know.”

“Fuck, really?” Hyojong slaps his arm, “Congratulations.”

“Wow,” Hui blinks, “What company?”

“Bighit.” Yoongi waves, “But we’re only trainees. A lot of us are still in college.”

“Unreal.” Hyojong blinks, “Are you going here?”

“No, no, we drove in to perform at the tavern.” Namjoon grins, “There’s some prize money involved tonight.”

“Ahh.”

Yoongi smirks, turning to Hyojong, “What about you? Are you going to give us some real competition?”

Hyojong can feel Hui’s side eye. He’s being polite, standing with his hands folded, but he’s burning holes into the side of Hyojong’s face.

“No.” Hyojong gives a short laugh, “No no. Just on a date.”

“Ahhh, what a shame,” Namjoon says, and quickly corrects himself. “Ah, not the date part. I’ve just missed watching you in action.”

Hyojong scoffs, “Are you kidding? You two would wipe the floor with me.”

Namjoon makes a noise of disagreement, but Yoongi cuts in, a hand at Namjoon’s chest, “Anyways. Sorry to interrupt your date. It was nice seeing you E’dawn.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hyojong waves. He shifts back to stand by Hui, “We should get together soon.”

“Yeah, fucken’ text us.”

Hyojong laughs, “I will, I will. Go kill it.”

He gets a thumbs up, before they dissappear, to talk with some of the other contestants gathered around tables. Hyojong lets out a sigh, slipping back into his seat, where Hui is already sitting again.

“They seem nice,” Hui smiles. He sips his drink, “What was all that about?”

“Oh, nothing.” Hyojong shifts, “We were in some school clubs together growing up.”

“Hm,” Hui chews on his bottom lip. He drops the subject with a smile, “Did you ever play any sports?”  

“Just football. But literally everyone played football growing up, so.”

“Did you get to play American Football in the states?”

“No,” Hyojong laughs. “I’m a twig. They’d snap me in two.”

“Not really!” Hui giggles, like a kid.  “I watched you pick up Jinho the other day.”

“Well, that’s not exactly an accomplishment.”

Hui covers his mouth as he laughs, _“Ah,_ ahaha-“

“I like your laugh,” Hyojong blurts, and because he just can’t shut up, he adds, “A lot. It’s cute.”  

“That’s good,” Hui smiles, lowering his hand. “Yanan tells me I laugh too much.”

“Maybe,” Hyojong shifts. “I used to not laugh enough.”

Hui hums. He lifts his glass, which is mostly empty now – “To laughing, then.”

Hyojong clinks his glass against his, just as Namjoon drags a stool upstage. The lights of the tavern are low, the lanterns hanging from the ceiling a dull green and red. The bartender scurries about, groups of friends laughing around them – and Hyojong loses track of time.  

 

~

 

They don’t kiss when Hui drops him off, but that’s mostly because he can see Hyungwon peeping through the blinds of their window – multiple bodies push and shove, trying to see through the sliver. They must think the walls are much thicker than they actually are.

_“-better walk him to the door.”_

_“Oh oh, they’re getting out-“_

_“Ahh Hyojongie looks so cute in his little oxfords.”_

_“Do you think they’re gonna’ kiss?”_

“Oh my god,” Hyojong breathes. “I’m sorry about them.”

Hui laughs, pulling him in a hug, “No problem. I had a lot of fun.”

Hyojong freezes – but Hui is warm and snuggly, and the perfect height for a hug, so he tangles his fingers in the back of Hui’s jacket and squeezes. He smells really nice, even after being in a bar for two hours.

“Me too.”

“I hope you come to movie night on Monday.”

Hyojong gives a short laugh, pulling away from the hug to meet his eyes, “Like I’d miss Shinwon’s pick.”

Hui’s face falls into fondness – it pulls at Hyojong’s heart, settling warm in his gut. Hui steps back, hands in his pockets, soft smile in place. “They have you whipped.”

A car drives by, lights illuminating their faces for a split second. Hyojong glances up through his eyelashes, hands falling into his own pockets. He says, low, looking Hui right in the eye, “I’m a little whipped.”

He sees Hui visibly inhale- the air twists between them –

But there’s an audible gasp from behind the window; the light grows bigger as Wonho and Kihyun fight for space behind the blinds.

_“-ove! I can’t fucking see-“_

_“Shush!”_

_“Ow! Fuck-“_

Hui glances at them through the window – there’s that look of a leader, strong and unwavering, and the light from the window disappears. It’s intimidating and super hot;  Hyojong would love nothing more than to slam Hui up against the door, and kiss him until tomorrow.

Hui breathes nervously, gaining Hyojong’s attention. “Um. Can we – can we do this again? Another date?”

Hyojong smiles, “Was I that charming?”

Hui laughs, “You have no idea”

“Of course,” Hyojong chews on his bottom lip to erase his smile. He feels his face burning, “I’m glad I didn’t scare you away.”

“Never.” Hui says seriously. Hyojong should kiss him. Make some kind of move.

But he says, “I’ll see you Monday. Tell everyone I said hi.”

“I will,” Hui says, with a polite nod. He turns to walk away, waving his goodbye, smiliey and cute and ah, god, yeah. Hyojong _is_ whipped, isn’t he?”

_“They didn’t kiss. I’m sad.”_

_“Holy shit, because you don’t shut the fuck up.”_

Hyojong turns to the window, sticking out his tongue and pulling down the lower lid of his eye. The light disappears once more, shushed arguments falling silent as Hyojong turns the lock in the door.

It’s fine. Hui drives away with a final wave, and Hyojong is left feeling warm and content.

 

~

With the semester ending soon, Hyojong really shouldn’t be going out at all. Keyword: shouldn’t, but Hyojong’s judgement skills went down the drain when he actually gained some sort of social life.

Hongseok bugs him about the date all throughout class, huffing and puffing until Hyojong agrees to tell him everything over a cup of shitty college café coffee.

“You should’ve seen him,” Hongseok nudges him under the table, “He couldn’t stop smiling.”

“He never stops smiling.”

 _“No._ Not true. He curled up in a blanket and whined about how cute you are for hours.”

Hyojong feels his face warm, so he hides it behind his fingers and sighs.

“He’s really sweet.”

“I guess. Hui has a lot of different sides,” Hongseok sips. “He lets us walk all over him, but he’s quite authoritive when he wants to be.”

“I like it.” Hyojong says, too fast.

Hongseok wiggles his eyebrows and Hyojong barks, “Shut _up._ ”

He does though. He really does like it.

Hui’s face is just so kissable. Hyojong isn’t the thirstiest bitch in the club, but there’s something about Hui. He wants to rake his nails down his back, press his face into Hui’s neck and never return. Hui doesn’t wear fancy cologne, but he smells _so_ good. Like, man good. Real and tangible.

Hui asks him out on another date the next day, much more relaxed than the last time he saw him– and bit by bit, Hyojong falls deeper down the rabbit hole.

 

~

 

They gave him a spare key weeks ago, but Hyojong still doesn’t feel right using it. He knocks, and when he’s met with nothing, he flips out the key and peeks in.

“Hello?”

There’s loud music playing, which would explain why no one heard him. He steps in, closing the door behind him – he kicks off his shoes next to the fifty other pairs lined up at the mat, and yells louder, “Hello?”

He sees Yanan and Yeo One dancing in the livingroom together – more bodies sitting up on the kitchen countertop, and on the couch.  They seem to be huddling around something.

Jinho peeps around one of the pillars and grins, “Hyojong! You made it~”

“Yeah, Hui said we were watching-“ Hyojong pauses mid sentence, mid step, mid everything. His brain chooses that exact moment to pay attention to what they’re listening to, very loudly. He blinks, face falling, mouth opening slightly. “What…” Hyojong breathes-

Hui skids around the corner, looking extremely guilty, “Hyojong! I’m sorry, I-“

“E’dawn!” Wooseok perks up, scrolling through something on his phone. “That’s such a cool name!”

Yeo One babbles, “Why didn’t you tell us you made music? Well, I mean, we _knew_ you made music but why didn’t you tell us it was so good?”

Hyojong blinks, still wordless. They’re listening to his music?

Indeed, it’s his voice rapping through the speakers, Yanan and Yeo One still dancing together as they hold hands.

“I’m sorry,” Hui repeats, with a sigh. “I was curious about the name that your friends called you, and a tall brat saw over my shoulder while I was googling it.”

“It’s _good,_ ” Shinwon enunciates. “Like hella’ good. _E’Dawn.”_

As the initial shock melts away, Hyojong’s face lights up. “Really?”

“It’s incredible,” Hongseok says. “You made my singing sound _good._ ”

“Oh…yeah…sorry I never showed you that by the way.”

“We’ve been playing your soundcloud all week,” Hui smiles, finally shifting over to wrap his arm around Hyojong’s waist for a hug. “You continue to surprise me.”

Hyojong exhales a laugh through his nose, hugging him back. He says low enough for just Hui to hear, “I think I can say the same about you.”

Hui’s soft laugh rings in Hyojong’s ear. For a moment, he thinks he feels him brush his nose against the swell of his neck and breathe in, before pulling away. It happens so fast, that Hyojong can only stand in shock, like a moron.

“Alright,” Jinho claps. “Movie night. It’s my pick~”

“Ugh,” Wooseok flops back. “It was _just_ your pick.”

“Like nine weeks ago!”

Hui smiles, “What’s so wrong about Jinho’s movie picks?”

“He’s gonna’ make us sit through another fucken musical.”

“I like musicals,” Hyojong adds.

Jinho gestures, “ _See!”_

“I call dibs on sitting by E’dawn,” Kino points.

“Hey,” Yuto elbows him. “You should let him sit by Hui.”

“I called dibs first, so, no.”

“It’s fine,” Hyojong smiles. “I can sit with Kino.”

“Okay~” Hui teases. He leans over to snuggle up to Yanan, “I can sit with our Shanghai prince~”

Yanan’s face scrunches up into fake disgust, and the room echoes with laughter. When they settle down, lights off, T.V. glowing, Hyojong’s curiosity gets the best of him. He glances to Hui from across the room, and is surprised to see him staring back. He’s happily in the crook of Yanan’s arm, but he still gazes at Hyojong, like how a wolf watches it's pack.

It catches Hyojong so off guard, that his eyes flicker back to the screen, heart racing. What déjà vu. He swallows, lulling his head against Kino’s shoulder, and tries to focus back on the movie. They’re singing about love, or whatever. He feels the weight of Hui’s eyes, and wills himself to be patient.

They’ll have their time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so long but i just dont care anymore LOL 
> 
> /smut warning

 

Finals are just around the corner. Soon they’ll be off, a full month to breathe again. It’s a busy time, of rushing around in the cold, pouring coffee down their throats and cramming everything and anything in their swollen brains.

Hui comes over sometimes, to sit with him on the couch and study in silence. Hyojong likes the Pentagon house. He likes the busyness, and the parties, and the dates. But there’s also something soft about cuddling in the silence of his apartment.

They don’t hang out as much as they could, but that’s fine. Life is busy, Hui works part time, and studies the other half. Still, Hui is adamant about taking him out for late night ramen and hand-held walks through the park.

Hyojong likes his hands. They’re a little longer than his own, slender and pretty, the knuckles just as angular as the rest of him. Hui’s hands fit perfectly between his – and Hui never has any shame. That much is obvious – and since they’ve started dating, it’s only spiraled. Dating. Boyfriend. They’re such raw words.

Hui loves to kiss his cheeks – to press his nose behind his ear and breathe. Slowly the awkwardness fades away, Hyojong becoming familiar with Hui’s touch. He likes the possessive hand that lands on his hip during parties. The fingers that curl in his pockets. Hyojong revels in the attention, like a well-praised dog.

They don’t kiss that often, other than soft, gentle hellos and unfortunate goodnights. It’s not so much a matter of privacy – Pentagon gives them more than enough space when they want – it’s just a matter of time. No time these days.

It doesn’t mean Hyojong doesn’t _want._

Of course when he sits there, next to Hui on movie nights, he falls closer and closer to the edge of insanity, as Hui draws lines up and down the insides of his thigh. Of _course_ he goes bonkers, when Hui presses a kiss against the swell of his neck and sighs, _goodnight._

It makes Hyojong dizzy – how hot and cold Hui can be. But Hyojong is a _master_ at the push and pull game, so he plays along. Dips his fingers beneath Hui’s shirt in passing. Flicks his tongue against Hui’s lower lip when they kiss. There’s always a sharp inhale from Hui, a firm grip on his hip – and Hyojong’s chest swells with pride.

Sometimes it’s more. Sometimes, when Hyungwon disappears into his bedroom, Hui grabs his wrists and tugs them above his head, tipping his head and kissing in a way only Hui can. He speaks his own language with his tongue, and Hyojong is learning to read it so well. He’s hot, making Hyojong’s entire body thrum warm, until the door jingles and Hui pulls away, looking back at his book like it was nothing.

So Hyojong plays back, rolling up his sleeves until his tattoos show, wearing yoga shorts that don’t fit.

“You’re the _worst_ , _”_ Hui will laugh, and Hyojong will laugh with him.

 

~

 

_Hongmom_

{8:49 a.m.}

_Thanks <_

 

 

 

{4:45 pm}

> _hey man, you finish that music theory study guide?_

{4:47 p.m.}

_LOL < _

No. <

{4:50 p.m.}

> _same tbh_

_> do you wanna get together and work on it??_

{4:50 p.m.}

_yes pls, < _

_I’m suffering <_

{4:52 p.m.}

> _I feel you_

_> it’ll all be over soon! _

{4:53 p.m.}

_Thank goodness < _

_I’m going to sleep for the entire break < _

_You got plans? < _

{4:53 p.m.}

_> Besides seeing family? _

_> Actually yes! _

_> Pentagon is going on a lil’ road trip~ _ {4:55 p.m.}

_Oh wow…. One week? <_

{4:56 p.m.}

> _Yep!!_

_> I’d invite you but um,,,_

_> Idk if non-members are allowed _

{4:57 p.m.}

_Oh. <_

_Well, that’s fine < _

{4:56 p.m.}

_> Sometimes I forget you’re not one of us. _

_> Have you talked to Hui about it? _

{5:01 p.m.}

_No <_

{5:02 p.m.}

_> :( _

_> it’s your choice and all _

_> but lowkey _

_> I hope it happens _

_> everyone adores you _

_> you’d complete us  <33333_

{5:03 p.m.}

_I love them all too < _

{5:04 p.m.}

_> AHHH THIS IS KINO_

_> WE LOVE YOU! 1!! 1_

> _oh my gosh I’m so sorry_

_> UR THE BEST HYUNG  <222 – Yeo One_

> fuKC

{5:05 p.m.}

_AHAH <_

_tell them all I say hi <_

{5:06 p.m.}

_> I aint sayin shit_

_> they’re looking over my shoulder like a bunch_ _  
_of goddamn hawks__

{5:07 p.m.}

<3 <

_I’ll be by to study at seven < _

{5:07 p.m.}

> _kk ily_

~

Hyojong is lucky. Even when he’s exhausted, even when he’s low on food money, even when he misses home. He’s so _lucky_ to have all these new friends. To have Jackson who texts him on the daily, to have Hyungwon who teaches him how to paint his nails. To have Kino and Wooseok and Yuto, who play video games with him late at night. For Shinwon who carries him when he’s tired. For Jinho and Hongseok who sing with him in the backyard. For Yeo One who makes him laugh, and Yanan who is his silent, calming forever friend.

And of course, there’s Hui. He’s wormed his way so efficiently into Hyojong’s life, that Hyojong can’t imagine his weeks without him. Hui isn’t overbearing. He isn’t obsessive. But he sends ugly good-morning snapchats, and sleeps in Hello Kitty pajama pants and sings like a goddamn angel. He corrals his boys around, protects them from the world, and never pressures Hyojong into anything. He simply invites him along for the ride.

Hyojong adores him. Unbearably. They argue over movies and can never decide on which bread to feed the pond ducks with – but Hyojong lives for every sharp word that ever falls from his tongue, because that means Hui trusts him. Hui is comfortable around him. But…um.

Finals still grow closer, study sessions become more violent, time slips away. Hyojong feels wound up, tight like a Jack-in-the-Box, but with no spring to release, nothing to let him sing. He feels the tick, the edge in his blood.

And he’ll just be honest here; it’s been like, a _long_ time since he’s been laid. Just saying. Like, probably a year? This fun little game he plays with Hui is great and all – he adores him, he falls harder every time he laughs, every time he buys him flowers or makes him dinner or snuggles into his side – but Hyojong is on the border of _losing_ it, and he doesn’t want Hui to think he’s some kind of animal that can’t control himself.

But hell, he hasn’t even had time to jack off or _anything._ He’s almost late for his 8 am Wednesday class, and it throws him off all week. He goes to the Pentagon house for a study session, and when Hui promptly sits in his lap, Hyojong nearly snaps. Hui had twisted around, kissed him with a smile and shifted in his lap, and just- _fuck,_ Hyojong wanted to grip him by the hair, and kiss him until his lips bled.

So when Hyungwon says _I’m going to MX’s house, I’ll be back tomorrow,_ and Hui texts him   _hey babe, can I come over?_ Hyojong almost wants to say no. He hasn’t showered today, and his back hurts, and his eyes are red from reading so much, and he _wants_ Hui. He wants to peel out of his body and climb into Hui’s instead. To kiss him forever and ever and ever, until he owns Hui’s soul for all of eternity.

Hyojong has terrible self-control, and he texts back _yes please._

 

It’s not long until there’s a knock on his door. Hyojong opens it way too quickly, eyes looking Hui up and down in one quick glance. He’s carrying a bag full of junk food, so Hyojong breathes, “Oh my gosh, you’re the best.”

Hui beams, holding up the food like a trophy, “I figured you needed a pick-me-up.”

“Come here,” he barks, and pulls Hui into a hug, still in the doorway. Hui holds the food away with one arm and squeezes him back with the other.

They pull apart long enough to lock the door, Hui kicking off his shoes and dumping the snacks on Hyojong’s coffee table. “So, how’s the song coming along?”

“I’m going to pull out my hair,” Hyojong slumps into the couch. He pulls the laptop closer, “There’s something wrong with it, and I just can’t tell what.”

“Do you want me to redo the vocals?” Hui bites his lower lip, “It wasn’t- it wasn’t my _best-“_

“Hell no,” Hyojong frowns. “It’s me, not you.”

Hui laughs, “Let’s hope I never hear that phrase again.”

Hyojong snorts, pushing him with his elbow, but collapsing nonetheless, leaning his head against Hui’s shoulder and sighing. He hits play on the song; Hui brings a hand into his hair, petting him as they listen. It’s not _bad,_ but it’s not _right._

Hui’s index finger swirls around in his hair, curling it, before letting go. Nails rake through his scalp, down to his ears, and back up, giving Hyojong goosebumps. Hui listens carefully, occasionally humming along to himself. When Hyojong’s rap comes in, Hui smiles, big and goofy. “You’re so talented, Hyojongie.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” Hui pets him. “It sounds really good.”

“It’s _off._ ”

Hui falls silent, listening once more. Hyojong sighs, bringing a hand to rest on Hui’s thigh. He’s wearing the jeans that Hyojong _despises._ The rips raise way, way too high on his thighs, showing off flawless smooth skin. Hyojong wiggles his fingers into one of the rips, and Hui doesn’t seem to notice.

“I think it’s the treble,” Hui finally says. “It clashes with part of the chorus.”

“Huh?”

Hui rewinds part of the song, and plays it again.

Hyojong’s eyes snap open, sitting up off his shoulder. He listens carefully – and yeah. Yeah, _fuck-_

 _“Fuck!”_ Hyojong brings his laptop closer, cursing. “Shit, fuck. You’re right.”

Hui laughs, “I mean, it’s _fine,_ but-“

“No no no you’re totally onto something,” Hui fiddles around with the file. “Oh my god-“

“Hyojong,” Hui laughs, dipping his fingers into Hyojong’s shirt, and pulling him back. “You look like hell. You can fix it later.”

“Thanks,” Hyojong says sarcastically. He looks from Hui, to the file, then back, “Actually, thanks though. Sorry I’m a mess.”

“It’s fine~” Hui pops open one of the bags, and points it in Hyojong’s direction. “Chip?”

“Thanks,” Hyojong takes one, crossing his legs beneath him with a sigh. He saves the file, and forces his laptop shut for the night. “You’re kind of a lifesaver.”

“I try~”

Hyojong resists the urge to force himself back into the crook of Hui’s arm. Instead he leans up against the opposite end of the couch, hoping to exercise a little self-control. “What have you been up to?”

“Studying,” Hui shrugs. “The house is a little eerie right now. Once finals are over, everything will go back to normal.”

“Mm,” Hyojong takes another chip. “This semester went by really fast.”

Hui smiles, “It did. I think it was a fun one.”

“Yeah?” Hyojong pushes his toes into his thigh, “I think so too.”

“You know there’s going to be an end of the year party, right?”

“Why am I not surprised.”

Hui laughs, “It’s being thrown by BTOB, so. I’m not sure if I’m going to let my boys go or not.”

Hyojong raises an eyebrow, “They need your permission?”

“For a BTOB party? Yes.”

Hyojong laughs, “What’s so bad about them? I thought they were your friends.”

“Oh,” Hui pops open another bag, “They are. We’re incredibly close with them. They take great care of us.”

“Then what’s the big deal?”

“It's a full scale production. The water is probably spiked.”

Hyojong laughs, “They’re that big?”

“They’re legends for not giving a shit,” Hui replies. “I think someone almost died last year. It was probably Jay."

“Damn.”

“Yeah,” Hui rubs his chin. “I’m probably going to say no this year. We can have our own party.”

“That sounds cool,” Hyojong settles down further against the armrest of the couch. “You could invite some of the other baby groups. Lord knows Taeyong won’t let NCT anywhere near that place, from the sounds of it.”

Hui laughs, reaching down to grip Hyojong by his ankle, “You hit the nail on the head.” He runs the pad of his fingers around the bone of his ankle, and it feels surprisingly good. A shivering chill runs up his back.  He knows Hui saw it, but Hyojong looks away, feigning disinterest. Hui is methodical, rubbing circles up his shin, and back down. The feeling tingles up his leg, Hyojong breathing unevenly.

He clears his throat and changes the subject, “So how’s work been?”

Hui smiles, happy to answer, using his free hand as he talks, animated as always. His hair isn’t perfectly done, and his clothes are just jeans and a sweatshirt, but Hyojong likes him like this. It’s so easy with Hui – lulls in the conversation don’t feel awkward, like they do with anyone else.

Hyojong finds himself watching Hui’s lips as he talks – he sometimes wets his lips, sometimes nicks his bottom lip with his canine on accident – and it makes Hyojong dizzy. His sweatshirt slips down a little; it must be Yanan’s, because it doesn’t fit him very well. His neck is pretty and unmarred –

Hyojong redirects his gaze to Hui’s eyes, when he looks back his way, and Hyojong nods along, because he _is_ listening, he promises, he is.

 

~

 

When Hui bites his lip for the umpteenth time that night, Hyojong stands up off the couch a little more forceful than intended. Hui stares at him, blinking, as Hyojong says, “I’m thirsty. Do you want anything?”

“Oh! Water is fine.”

“Gotcha,” Hyojong nods, and patters into the kitchen. Once he’s out of eyeshot from Hui, he inhales, filling his lungs, and exhales loudly. Hyojong doesn’t like to seem needy – but lord, Hui makes it hard. He’s being especially touchy, running his hand up and down Hyojong’s leg in absent circles. It’s possessive and unconscious, Hui not even realizing what he does while he’s talking.

Hyojong is considerably more relaxed than before, but also more wound up. He doesn’t feel sleepy in the slightest, even if the clock says midnight. He can’t sit still, keeps bouncing his leg, eyes jumping from Hui’s lips, eyes, ears, hair, hands, neck, chest-

Hyojong grips the countertop, staring into the sink with a deep inhale.

_Get ahold of yourself, for fucks sake._

Maybe he’ll send Hui home early. Spare him whatever episode Hyojong is going through.

Shakily, he reaches into the fridge. He pulls out a pitcher of water, as well as whatever juice Hyungwon bought last week. He grabs two cups, clicking them softly against the counter – he goes to unscrew the cap of the carton, but he jumps, gasping when hands circle around his waist.

“Hellooo,” Hui sings, right against his ear. His hands lock together above Hyojong’s bellybutton; his chin comes to rest on his shoulder. Hui is only slightly taller, but that advantage really shows here.

“Dammit, Hui,” Hyojong exhales. “You gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yes? Jesus,” Hyojong gives a half-laugh, and pours water into one of the cups. “Can you not be alone for five seconds?”

“You’re being weird,” Hui pokes his cheek with his nose. “Did I make you mad?”

“What?”

Hui squeezes him harder, rubbing his nose against Hyojong’s cheek affectionally, like a puppy. He whines, “If I’m keeping you up, I can go. Just tell me~ be honest~”

Hyojong swallows hard, setting the pitcher back down, “You’re not a bother." 

“Well that’s good,” Hui says, and continues to nose into the back of his neck. “You smell nice. You wanna’ watch a movie?”

Seconds tick by, and Hyojong’s brain forgets that he’s supposed to respond to that. Instead he’s gripping the counter, staring at the granite, holding his breath. Hui is squeezing him so tight that he can feel his stomach muscles clench as he talks. He knows Hui is being playful – he’s just teasing, flirting and having fun like he usually does – but Hyojong’s brain has made a permanent house in the gutter.

“Hyojongie?” Hui’s voice lowers an octave away from the joking nature of before. He kisses behind his neck in quick pecks, one two, against his ear, beneath his jaw, trying to gain his attention. “Something’s wrong.”

Hyojong inhales, and exhales, closing his eyes for a second, before he finally says, “Hui, I’m sorry. You gotta’ stop.”

Hui lets go immediately, hands falling from his bellybutton, to his hips. The breath against his ear disappears, and Hyojong can breathe again.

“I’m sorry!” Hui gasps. “I never asked if you were okay with any of that.”

“It’s fine-“

“Like, I know we haven’t had time and- and I’ve been really bad about talking about this stuff with you. Normally I’m really good about it? It’s such a priority, shit, you know, if you don’t want an intimate relationship I’m _totally_ okay with that-“

“Hui,” Hyojong breathes, and cuts him off mid thought. Hui doesn’t say a thing. Hyojong doesn’t turn around to look him in the eye. “That’s not it.”

“Huh?”

“I fucking adore you.” Hyojong stares at the granite. “And you’re driving me insane. I don’t want to seem like a bitch in heat here, but I’m going to actually slam you up against that wall if you don’t let go of me.”

Hui’s hands leave his hips, and Hyojong closes his eyes, and exhales.

“Oh,” Hui says.

“Yeah.”

A pause.

 _“Oh._ ”

“Mmhm.”

A second pause. Hyojong feels the red in his face fade away, so he braves opening his eyes. The kitchen is silent; the fridge hums. He moves to turn, but hands trap him against the counter, pushing him forwards until his crotch digs into the rounded edge of the granite. Hyojong gasps, head rolling forward, when Hui traps him in.

 _“Ohhh,”_ Hui purrs, nose coming back by his ear. “Do I turn you on, Hyojongie?”

Good mother of god.

Hyojong makes a winded noise, like being punched in the gut, and Hui giggles by his ear. A hand leaves the counter to rest against Hyojong’s stomach, palm splaying wide, fingers slowly feeling him through his shirt.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Hyojong bites – it takes everything he has not to roll his hips back. He can feel Hui pressed up behind him, hips carefully tilted away.

“I’m not~” Hui’s mouth falls to the muscle of his shoulder where his neck swells down. His fingers roll up slowly, methodically, pushing Hyojong’s shirt up a little. His fingers are cool. “I’m happy. You’re essentially sex on legs, you know.”

“That is false.”

Hui laughs, before he turns Hyojong around in his arms, pressing him up against the counter, and kissing him for real. Hyojong keens like an idiot, hand combing up into his hair, head tipping to kiss him better. He’s dizzy, but like, not? Not like before. It’s more – more giddy. They kiss without boundary, push and pull, Hyojong lightly playing with the hairs on his neck, and sighing into his mouth.

A part of his brain screams _its happening its happening its happening –_ but the other part clicks off, turning on autopilot, and letting go.

He runs his tongue into Hui’s mouth, and all but sings when Hui grunts against his teeth. Hui could be a pornstar. Or a sex phone operator. But instead he’s here, pushing up Hyojong’s shirt, running his hand down his sternum, down his sides, and around to his ass. He’s surprisingly (and unsurprisingly) dominant in the way he grips his ass in one hand, fingers easily feeling him up through his sweatpants, and Hyojong chokes.

“Ahhh,” Hui sighs. He pulls back long enough to kiss the spit off the corner of Hyojong’s mouth. “You’re too much, Hyojongie.”

Hyojong is burning up. He’s hot, he’s _hot-_ Hui’s hands scorch him, everywhere they run. Hyojong is probably supposed to say something back, but he’s putty in Hui’s hands, head lolling back when he mouths down his throat.

“I’m gonna’ die,” he chokes. His free hand rests at Hui’s belt, thumb running over the metal tip time and time again. He grows brave, dipping his fingers beneath his sweatshirt, and internally dying when he feels a stubbly happy trail.

“You’re so pent up,” Hui notes, speaking against his neck. We hear about how great neck kisses are, blah-blah-blah – but you never really _know,_ until you feel it. Until you feel someone kiss down your throat, wet and warm. It’s a chilling feeling, hot but cold, shocking and soothing. Sexy as hell, boner inducing and all that.

Hyojong can’t lie, because Hui is fucking right, so he says, “Yeah.”

“I can feel it,” Hui pulls back, hands smoothing up his stomach. It’s like he can’t decide which part of Hyojong to touch, hands ever moving. “I knew you’ve been off.”

“I don’t _need_ sex,” Hyojong defends himself. “I’m just-“

Hui looks him in the eye, and Hyojong cuts himself off with an audible snap. Hui’s hands still, right on his hips, and he flirts, “Lemmie take care of you.”

Hyojong manages a faint _okay-_ before Hui is kissing him again, smiling against his lips. They’re still in the kitchen, but Hyojong isn’t sure he could make it anywhere else. His feet are glued to the floor, body melting into Hui’s. He wants to take, to have – so he slips his hands behind Hui’s sweatshirt, and rakes his nails down his back, when Hui flicks his tongue around his. Hui startles, choking on a moan, when Hyojong’s nails raise up red marks.

“You like that?” Hyojong breathes.

“Mm,” Hui hums, and kisses him again, again, _again-_

The world narrows down to this; Hyojong loses track of everything, other than the feeling of Hui’s fingers toying with the edge of his waistband. His thumb flicks across his hip, around his side, feels across a beauty mark, and back to his navel. Hyojong is burning, sweating – he’s never needed something _so_ bad. 

Hui is unwavering when he palms down between Hyojong’s legs. He has half a mind to be embarrassed – Hyojong doesn’t get _this_ hard _this_ easily, but Hui’s breathing is erotic, his hands warm and purposeful, and he kisses like he’ll die tomorrow.

Sweatpants do jack-diddly-squat to hide anything, so Hyojong is plainly hard, cock strapped to his thigh. Hui feels him up, fingers outlining his erection, squeezing occasionally. When he thumbs across the head, just through the fabric, Hyojong lets out a moan that surprises himself, even.

“Yesss,” Hui hums against his lips. “Be vocal.”

“Sorry,” Hyojong croaks. He tilts his hips into Hui’s hand, “It’s been- _ah-_ a-a while.”

Hui grins, “It's hot though.”  He hooks his fingers into Hyojong’s sweatpants and pulls down just enough to free his cock, erection coming to snap against his torso. “God, you’re beautiful.”

The praise rings through Hyojong, head to toe, and his fingers grip harder on Hui’s hip. His jeans are riding low now, so Hyojong has all the time in the world to oogle the V that dips beneath the waistband of his Calvin Klein’s.

Hui brings a free hand up to Hyojong’s cheek, pulling him in for one more kiss. Hyojong melts into it – a little more impatient now – but Hui sets him right, sets the pace, sucks on his tongue and rumbles, “Turn around, baby.”

The wind leaves Hyojong’s chest in a _nhh_ sound, eyes flickering shut, when Hui presses a dry thumb into the head of his cock. His brain blindly listens to Hui, turning around  - and he’s glad, because now he can grip the edge of the counter again.

Hyojong can’t remember the last time he was this turned on. It’s like every nerve in his body, every cell is screaming _Hui Hui Hui Hui-_ He's rock solid, just from this.

Curious hands grip his bare hips – they push the sweatpants down to the tips of his thighs, right beneath his balls, just enough so that Hui can grip his ass, and spread him apart.

 _“Fuck!_ Hui-“ He grits, “Hui-“

“I won’t,” Hui thumbs up to the dimples in his back. “Just looking, I promise.” Nails curl around his ass, and Hyojong forces his legs still. Hui kicks apart his knees a little, and Hyojong listens. “Fuck.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Hyojong bends a little, breathing hard. “Next time, I’m going to blow you through the roof.”

Hyojong doesn’t need to turn around; he can feel Hui’s smile.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Hyojong purrs, "I suck cock like a motherfucker."

“Please,” Hui sighs, now against his ear, which is _fuck-_ fuck. Hui figured out that turn on real damn fast. “God knows I dream about it all the time.”

Hyojong shivers- the tip of his cock brushes up against the edge of the counter, and it makes him tremble all over. Hui leans up to grab some of the olive oil sitting with the other assortment of bottles. He only grabs a little bit, before leaning back, and resting his forehead against Hyojong’s shoulder.

When his hand finally wraps around his cock, Hyojong chokes. It’s slick – and Hui doesn’t tease. Instead he’s methodic, feeling everywhere that feels good, pumping occasionally, squeezing beneath the head. He thumbs into his slit, twists his wrist, jerks him like a _pro-_

Hyojong holds the fuck on. He bites his tongue, holds back the noises in his throat. Hui’s hand slides with an erotic sound, and Hyojong can’t look away. Except, Hui builds a pace, slick and slow, speeding up on every fifth stroke, and Hyojong closes his eyes, falling apart piece by piece.

“Please,” Hui breathes, so _so_ close. “Be noisy.” His hips rock forwards and _oh._ Oh fuck oh –

It gets real, really real, when Hyojong feels Hui hard through his jeans. He’s hard, he’s _hard,_ really hard, and Hyojong feels him grind slowly against the cleft of his ass. Shit, fuck, _shit._ That’s because of him, huh? 

Hyojong’s mouth waters, body going slack, legs spread. Hui pants behind his ear, and Hyojong chokes on another spasm. His stomach flip flops, body tingling from head to toe. He’s already close, body trying, clawing for an orgasm.

“Feel good?” Hui asks, on a down stroke. He rolls his hips forwards, the outline of his dick grinding hard, “You look good. I could eat you alive~”

His hand twists around the head of his cock, the oil only doubling the pressure, and Hyojong’s tongue slips.

 _“Fuck!”_ He grits, grinding his ass back into Hui. “ _Hh-“_

 _“Louder,”_ Hui demands, pumping once, twice, then stopping all together. Hyojong chokes, eyes flying open when he squeezes at his base. His cock twitches violently in Hui’s hand, arousal pulsing. 

“Hui!” He sobs, head rocking forwards. _“Hui,_ fuck, that’s not _fair.”_

Hui grinds against him, huffing in his ear; the room twists tight with tension, Hyojong’s breathing is forced to short, labored breaths. His cock still twitches, body shaking, completely tense.

“Look at you,” Hui sighs. He nips down his neck, one experimental bite, before sucking on his shoulder. Hyojong keens, loud and needy.

 _“Nh-_ H-Hui, I’m, _fuck,_ I’m gonna-“

Hui’s free hand slips down his thigh, squeezing at the muscle to steady Hyojong. “You’re mine,” he breathes. “Mine, Hyojong-“ he pumps his hand again, and Hyojong about dies. The possessiveness in his voice is raw, and uncensored, animalistic, Hui rubbed to his bone. Hyojong revels in it, _bathes_ in it.

However, in a moment of clarity, Hyojong pries his eyes open. He’s close, body wound so tight, he can feel heat pulsing between his legs. Sweat clings his shirt to his back, sandwiched between Hui- _Hui,_ who’s rock fucking solid behind him, rocking his clothed cock against Hyojong’s naked ass. His voice is shaky – and Hyojong takes pride in that. He hasn’t even touched him, but Hui’s chest rises and falls with labored breaths.

So Hyojong throws his pride out the window. He grins, Cheshire and evil, before he tips his head back and _begs_ _, “Hui! Nhh- H-Hui-“_

Hui gasps against his ear, the rhythm he’s built up sputtering.

“It’s so good,” Hyojong babbles. “So- _ah-_ so good, please, _fuck,_ Hui I can’t, y-you’re _nhh!”_

He reaches back with one hand, clawing at his hip, pulling until Hui is rocking harder against him. Hui moans against his ear – a full on, gorgeous noise, that makes Hyojong come on the spot.

It hits him so hard he sobs, body rocking forward, shaking like a whore in church. His toes curl, the wave flooding through his body, before his cock pulses once, twice, _forever –_ he keens, biting the noises down in his throat. Hui catches most of it his hand, but it slicks down erotically through his fingers, and onto the floor. Hui mumbles words of encouragement in his ear, but to Hyojong, it’s just noise. Blood rushes through him, a tingling that runs from head to toe.

All the tension bleeds out of him, until Hyojong is slumped against the counter, and gasping for breath. Like a fish on land.

Their breathing fills the room. Hyojong feels so good he could roll over and die, probably. His soul has officially left his body.

“Dammit,” Hui exhales. “Hyojong, I’m sorry.”

He peeps open an eye, body numb, “Hah?”

Hui fumbles for the sink, rinsing off his hands and grabbing a paper towel. When he begins to wipe across Hyojong’s lower back, Hyojong furrows his eyebrows – until _oh._ Oh. It takes Hyojong a second to realize that Hui had shoved down his jeans with one hand, and came all over his ass.

Hyojong groans, loud and gravely, collapsing his forehead on his arms and moaning into the countertop.

“Are you okay?” Hui's voice is soft and tired. He cleans him up quickly, and pulls  Hyojong’s sweatpants back up.

“I’ve died.”

Hui laughs; he wraps his arms around Hyojong’s torso and squeezes him affectionately, “You’re incredible.”

“I didn’t do jack shit,” Hyojong manages. Damn, his voice sounds awful. Like it’s been through the garbage disposal.

“Very untrue,” Hui sighs. He kisses his cheek affectionately, and Hyojong summons the energy to turn around in his arms, and kiss him properly. Hui hums, hands coming to  both his cheeks. Thumbs brush beneath his eyes, and Hyojong feels his heart squeeze. “Do you feel better?”

“I’ve been reborn, ” Hyojong says. “I’m going to give to the poor. Care for the needy. Feed the hungry.”

Hui sputters into an adorable laugh, clinging onto Hyojong like he might disappear. Hyojong smiles too, wrapping his arms around Hui, and burying himself in his shoulder. Hui smells so good. So deep and human, and very much like sex.

“Hyungwon is going to kill me if he finds out about this,” Hyojong muffles.

Hui kisses his temple. 

“A future problem.”

 


End file.
